Omens and Fools
by JOSTAN
Summary: Pete's bad day off was merely a preview of the week ahead.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N. I have revised all three chapters posted so far. Some more than others. Also, I forgot to include the disclaimer. I do not own the rights to the characters or shows. I'm only a fan.**

Pete Malloy possessed the sure belief that sometimes everyone in a person's life was hell-bent to make you miserable. Today was one of those days. In retrospect he should have seen the early morning call from his mother for the evil omen it was. If he had, he would have hidden in his apartment and ignored all phone calls, knocks on the door and telepathic communications. Instead, he answered her call and set off a chain of events.

He sat at the watch commanders desk and realized that he had no idea what the reports he had finished reading said. This was not a good sign. He was only three hours into the bottom half of a double shift. A quick glance at the clock told him that it wasn't Friday anymore. According to the clock it was 3:05 am Saturday morning. Saturday was supposed to be his day off, but then, so was Friday. He used the last report he read to help stiffle a yawn before attemting to read it again.

Sleep. That's what he desperately needed; all because of his mother. Normally, his mother obeyed his rule about no phone calls before noon, but at 7am on the dot Friday morning the phone rang. If he had been awake, he could have easily ignored her call. When she called him she used a signal: three rings, hang-up and call again. This quirk of his mother's started after Jim had been held captive in a bank, before being rescued by Pete. For days afterward, his phone kept ringing with calls from the press wanting an interview with the hero, so he stopped answering it.

Despite repeated attempts to convince her that she could simply call him without the code, she persisted. Her assertion being that he might start ignoring calls again and then she couldn't get in touch with him. The fact that she called so early in the morning was actually his fault. He had been ignoring her calls for about a month. She had gone so far as to call not only the station, but had also called Judy several times with messages to call her. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to his mother, well, it was, but not because he didn't love her. He was trying to avoid telling her something that would make her angry and cause her to yell at him, again.

His mother had met Judy and latched on as only the mother of a bachelor could. She saw Judy as the path to grandmother-hood and conspired with her to get Pete to the altar. As they hinted and planned, Pete grew more and more uneasy. Judy had been very supportive after he was shot during that narco raid. That is, before he told her that he was not going to quit the force. She urged him to resign and take a job, any job. She even suggested he go to work in her friend's hardware store. He couldn't imagine a more boring job.

While she stopped the constant pressure, she didn't give up on convincing him to resign. As a result, Pete was concerned that she didn't have what it takes to be a policeman's wife.

It was during one of their fights over his job when he began to realize that there was more about him than his job that she wanted to change. First, if was "Please don't swear around David", like he really swore all that much. Then it was, "Did you have to drink so much at the picnic?". Since when was two beers over an afternoon considered excessive drinking? She began complaining about the time he spent coaching his basketball team, saying he should spend the time with David. However, taking the boy along to practice didn't stop the complaints. Bowling, poker, division softball games were all added to her list of things she didn't like. He finally came to the decision that he didn't like being lectured like one of her second graders. In addition, he felt that if he changed everything she objected to, he would lose himself and become the martyr she once accused him of wanting to be.

So, he broke it off with her and his mother yelled at him for twenty minutes. It was not a good start on the day...


	2. Chapter 2

Deeply involved in a dream, it had taken Pete a while to realize that his phone was ringing. With a groan, the tiger awoke, grabbed the phone and growled into the mouthpiece, "Yeah?".

A moment of silence before his mother's voice sprang from the phone. "Peter Malloy! You finally answer one of my calls and that's how you greet me?" Why haven't you been calling me back?"

"Mom?" Pete shook his head, trying to force his brain to wake up.

"So, you do remember me. I'm so pleased that my son remembers my voice. I had thought you would have forgotten it after so many weeks of not calling me back." That sarcastic tone tinged with plenty of guilt brought several retorts to Pete's mind, but he bit them back. You really can't tell off your mother, can you? Not when it was your fault, afterall.

"Mom, I'm sorry I haven't been able to call you back, but I'm been working a lot this last couple of weeks," Work wasn't the reason, but Pete was grasping at straws. His mother was, by nature, a rather sweet woman except when she is mad. That's when the Scottish half of her came out and God help anyone caught in her sights.

"Now, don't you lie to me, Peter Joseph Malloy." He groaned at the use of his full name. Every child who has ever been called by all their given names knows what's coming next. He was suddenly glad to live so far away from his parents; she couldn't pull him by the ear to reprimand him at this distance.

"I've talked to your Sergeant MacDonald and you have yet to be working any time I called. I'm sure he gave you the messages, he seems like a responsible person". More sarcasm. "Even if he didn't, I know that Judy certainly told you of my calls."

"Please don't call her anymore Mom." He had heard all about the calls she made to Judy. Pete did wonder why Judy hadn't told his mother that he had "deserted" her and David.

"Why? I enjoy our little chats. She is such a lovely woman."

Out of options, Pete came clean. "Judy and I are no longer seeing each other"

"What did you do to her?", his mother demanded.

Pete may be only one quarter Scottish, but he did possess the firebrand temper of a Scot, although he usually kept it in check around his mother. "What makes you think it was my fault?"

"Because I know how much she loves you. A wife and stepson would be perfect for you. It would be nice to see you settled". He knew her well enough to know that "settled" was code for babies.

"Mom, I'm not discussing this with you. Please do not call her again.". He then pulled the phone from close proximity to his ear as his mother yelled and yelled and yelled.

"Peter! Did you hear me? The mortgage is due next week." He had no idea how she got from Judy to their mortgage, but it was a subject he'd rather talk about.

"Yes Mom, I remember that your mortgage payment is due next week. I've, already sent in the check", he lied.

It was either lying or listening to her yell at him again. He resented the monthly reminder to send them money to cover the mortgage on the farm. He has been sending money home since his second year on the force, when his mother's health forced her to stop teaching. It's not like he often forgot, he rarely did. He had always had, according to friends, an "over developed" sense of responsibility. In fact he could recall every one of the times he didn't send a check on time: The four times he was stuck in the hospital for a week or more.

After a short chat about how things were up there, his mother's goodbye included another comment urging him to get back together with Judy. "You know how much your father wants a grandchild."

He had a headache.

A trip to the bathroom for some aspirin and Pete was back in bed, trying to get some more sleep. He tossed and turned, beat his pillow into shape, growled at the sun beam shining in to his room before he gave up his quest for sleep as the building filled with the sounds of tenants starting their day. Most times, he liked living in an apartment as it freed him of the need to maintain a place of his own. Taking out Mrs. O'Brian's garbage was the one thing he consented to do, seeing as the manager often fed him. Some days he wondered if the free meals were worth the noise.

Conceding that he wasn't going to get anymore sleep didn't exactly motivate him to get out of bed. Instead, he reached over to his night stand and grabbed a book from a few he was in the middle of reading. He picked "Ball Four" by Jim Bouton. It was light reading and he half hoped that reading would help him fall asleep. He was wrong. The book, an account of Bouton's life as a pro baseball pitcher was much too funny and interesting to lull him back to sleep. In hind-sight, he should have picked up "Great Expectations". Dickens always put him to sleep..

He lay in bed, happily reading. His own laughter hid the soft tapping on his front door, but the extremely loud pounding caused him to spring out of bed. Pete was half-way to the door, clad only in his boxers, when Mrs. O'Brian added her voice to the pounding.

"Hang on a minute", he yelled as he ran back to his bedroom and threw on a pair of sweat pants and a tee shirt. Still, the pounding on the door continued. He opened it in time to catch, in mid swing, the shoe she was using to knock on the door.

"Whoa! Easy with the shoe! I don't need another lump on my head".

As he took the shoe out of her hand, she grabbed his other hand and pulled him out of the apartment. "Peter", you need to come now, someone hit your car!"

A year ago, tired of the lemon matador he had, Pete had purchased a restored, midnight blue mustang. It was identical to the one he used to own. The thought of damage to his beloved mustang did get him moving, ignoring the fact that he was barefoot. His head was filled with a stream of cuss words as he ran toward his car. Pete intented on giving the driver the same kind of dressing down that he usually reserved for rookies. The left front quarter-panel was dented hard enough to push the metal dangerously close to his tire.

All his fury dissipated in a second as the other driver turned to face him:

She was crying...


	3. Chapter 3

_Crying!_ Why did she have to be crying?

Ignoring the young woman, for the moment, he got down on one knee to survey the damage. Pete pulled on the fender and muttered curses under his breath. He was sure the women weren't well versed in the Latin curses he had learned while serving as an altar boy. Ten year-old Pete had been surprised to find out that there were Latin curses. He was working off the punishment for falling asleep while serving mass when he realized that Father Stevens was swearing. The priest had apparently stubbed his toe on a church pew. It didn't take a genius to know that the words were curses. After that, Pete, and the other altar boys made it a point to listen closely to the marine turned priest. It took a few weeks, but the boys had acquired an amazing array of swear words suitable for using around people (parents) who didn't speak Latin.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hit your car. It got in my way! Dad is going to kill me. It's his car" The sobbing young woman, who he guessed to be about seventeen, continued to babble.

Over ten years with the LAPD had taught Pete how to handle even the most dangerous situations calmly and professionally. Unfortunately, nothing he had learned at the Academy and in life, ever taught him how to deal with a crying woman. The women he dated and broke up with left him with the impression that tears were used either for sympathy or to win an argument. That wasn't the case here. He was sure that she was sincerely upset at damaging not only his car but her father's. That was the problem. He had absolutely no idea what to do with a crying stranger.

He could, and did, hug the crying wives of fellow officers when their husbands were hurt. He did hug some female friends either as a goodbye or romantically. A stranger crying at him was something he couldn't handle.

"Miss, Miss, please calm down. It's alright. What is your name?" He tried to reassure her despite his less than civil thoughts.

"No it's not! I'm gonna be babysitting until I'm an old lady to pay for this!" The tears continued down the girl's cheeks. She swiped her nose and said something that sounded like "Cindy."

"What do mean, " _It got in your way_ "? It was parked!" Lord protect him from teenage logic.

Cindy sniffed and looked up at him. "It did. I needed to go where it was."

"But…. It wasn't moving." Pete was very quickly losing his patience with the girl, but scaring her didn't seem the best way to deal with the situation.

"Don't worry. The insurance will pay for the damage." The girl seemed to cower even more than she already was. Pete got the distinct impression that it wasn't only the fact that he towered over her causing this behavior.

" _You do have insurance….don't you_?" The girl trembled and shook her head. Pete bit back a few more curses and forced his fists to unclench. With exaggerated patience, he turned to Mrs. O'Brian and asked her to please call the police.

At the word "police", Cindy took off like a startled rabbit with a "Strawberry Fox" on its' tail. The chase, while short, did result In one casualty; Pete had a piece of glass embedded in his right big toe. He kept a light touch on the girl's arm as he gingerly walked her back to their cars. The damage was being examined by a pair of cops from the morning watch: Burt Willard and the rookie Joe Demba.

"Good Morning Malloy. Is this the other driver? Were you in the car at the time of the accident?" Willard asked the questions while Demba seemed to be trying to blend into the backround.

Pete was trying to answer the questions, but was hindered by Mrs. O'Brian. She was bending down trying to pull the glass from his toe.

"It's fine Mrs. O'Brian. I'll take care of it later." He raised his hands in a "stop" motion, but she was determined.

"It will only take a second. You don't want it to get infected." Blood started to flow from the cut as soon as the piece of glass was removed. She looked up at the two responding officers and asked it either of them had a handkerchief she could use to stop the blood.

"She might be right Pete. You need to fix that before it gets infected and you have to ride the desk." Willard barely kept from laughing as he handed her his hankerchief.

Pete instantly took a step back. This was already bad enough. He would rather bleed than let these two clowns watch while his elderly landlord tended his toe.

His partner chimed in with "Ma'am? Do you know if he's had his shots?"

"I dearly hope he has. You do, don't you Pete?" Why did she have to answer them?

Pete had turned beet red, whether it was from anger or embarrassment was beside the point. He glared at both of the officers as Willard chimed in: "Stupid, we all have to have tetanus shots. The question is 'Did he have his distemper shot?'"

That did it!

"Shouldn't you gentlemen be taking this girl into custody already? Both had the wisdom to shut up.

"So why don't you do it?" The ice in his voice and the stormy glare held the unspoken threat that he out-ranked both of them and could make their lives miserable.

"Willard? Can I assume that the monthly training evaluation report on your rookie is waiting for me at the station?" It couldn't hurt to drive home the implied threat.

Cindy, being fifteen and unlicensed, was quickly taken into custody and transported to the station. Experience told Pete that very soon, everyone in the station would hear about Cindy, Mrs. O'Brian and his big toe


	4. Chapter 4

Pete limped back to his apartment wanting nothing more than a hot shower and a bit of peace before he had to be at basketball practice. As soon as he got the apartment door open, the phone started to ring. The caller hung up when Pete answered the phone. "Great, just great".

Pete left little drops of blood on the rug as he walked down the hall to the bathroom. He turned on the water and proceeded to strip off his clothes, tossing them into a pile in the corner of the bathroom. By the size of the pile, he reasoned that he didn't need to take his laundry to be washed, yet. He stepped into stall, anticipating a long, relaxing hot shower.

"Argh!" he gasped. The water that pelted his body wasn't remotely warm. The shock of the cold water reminded him of those Boy Scout camp-outs he used to go on. More often than not, they were made to bathe in the river or pond nearby. Rivers in Seattle are not known for being warm even in the middle of summer. Shivering, Pete quickly soaped up, washed his hair and rinsed all in the same move. As he shut off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist, he smiled at the memories of times spent sitting around a campfire or fishing with his best friends. All but a few of those friendships had fallen away. Still he would treasure those friends all his life. He was still lost in the past as he spread shaving cream on his face.

At the first swipe of the razor, the phone rang again. Pete really didn't feel like answering the phone. He knew he shouldn't ignore a call, but he wanted to linger in the memories. Besides, he reasoned, that if it was important, they would call back, right? The caller persisted and Pete reluctantly strolled into the bedroom to answer the phone. He should have gone with his first instinct.

Grabbing the phone in the bedroom, he held it away from his face to avoid getting the receiver covered in shaving cream. "Yeah?" he growled into the phone.

His tone of voice obviously unnerved the caller, who hesitated before squeaking, "Officer Malloy?" Another omen; very few good calls to his apartment stated that way.

"Who wants to know?" was the first thing that popped into his head, but reason ruled and he confirmed that he was Officer Malloy.

After a moment's hesitation, the woman began to speak. "Officer Malloy, my name is Rhonda Davis. I work for the state parole board and I've been told to inform you of a parole hearing for Mr. Tony Johnson. It is on the 9th at 10am".

Tony Johnson was a former LAPD officer and a good friend of Pete's. At least he was before he extorted money from a man found in the company of prostitutes. He then used his friendship with Pete to try to be cleared of the charges. For a while, Pete and Jim tried to help prove Tony innocent but they gradually realized that Tony was guilty. There was an ugly confrontation between Pete and his friend, before Tony admitted his guilt. After four years, the sting of Tony's betrayal was still a sore spot.

"Why does the Parole Board want me there?" It was a valid question. Usually, police officers are notified by mail, at the station, when there is a parole hearing they might want to speak at.

"Oh, the board isn't asking you to come for their purposes. It is Mr. Johnson's request. He would like you to be a character witness."

Pete was stunned and managed a stuttered "He What?" Surely, he must be hearing things.

"He wants you to speak for him before the board. Tell them that he should get parole." She calmly explained, having no notion of the torrent of hurt feelings unleashed by this request.

"Tell him to go...um, tell him that I can't be there. I have to testify in court that day. Goodbye, Miss. Davis."

Pete slammed down the receiver and stood frozen, staring at the phone. Was it possible that Tony really thought he would show up and tell the parole board to let him out of prison? After his arrest became public, several other men he blackmailed came forward to file complaints against him. He was convicted on several counts of extortion and sentenced to 5-10 years in prison. Yes, Tony had saved his life twice, but that debt was cancelled when he betrayed the friendship he and Pete had. As far as Pete was concerned, Tony could rot in prison.

Finally, Pete returned to the bathroom and started, once again, to shave. With each breath, the anger grew within him. How dare he ask Pete to speak for him? What would Jim say when he heard? Why the hell should he help him? A crooked cop made them all look bad.

"I don't owe him anything".

Pete finished shaving and he started walking towards the bathroom door. It was then that he saw the trail of blood he had left on the floor. That brought Cindy and her lousy driving to mind once again. He wiped the blood off the bathroom floor tiles but not off the brown hall rug. He used a butterfly bandage to close the cut and then applied the antibiotic cream. A gauze wrap finished off the problem toe. There was no way he was going to risk a stint on the front desk because his toe got infected.

Dressed in blue jeans and an LAPD shirt, Pete grabbed his keys and opened his front door. He was almost free when the phone rang once more. He really needed to tear that thing out of the wall. With a sigh, Pete made his way to the phone in the kitchen. For good or bad, he was too dedicated to his job to ignore a phone call that might be important.

"Malloy." Once again the caller hung up. Pete shrugged it off and headed out to his car. It was basketball time and he intended to enjoy the practice.


	5. Chapter 5

It was a beautiful day in Los Angeles and that had a wonderful effect on Pete. Sunshine, beaches and girls in bikinis were a few of the reasons he decided to move to the city. Days like this could make a person forget dinged up cars and hang-up phone calls. He barely glanced at the dent in the fender as he got in and began to drive.

As he drove, Pete mentally listed all the things he wanted to work on at basketball practice. He has been coaching in the Police Athletic League for several years. While he was proud of the championships his teams had won, he was more proud of the changes in his players. The league was about more than sports. Its' mission was to make a difference in the lives of at-risk youth. Pete did his best to offer guidance and support.

He intentionally parked so that the dent in his fender wasn't visible to the team. Being late was something Pete hated to be, but it made him smile to see that the team had started practice without him. He burst out laughing when he saw that the team, while practicing, wasn't using a ball. Instead they were playing a rousing game of "air ball". A failed lay-up was followed by a rebound and a pass to his star player. The teen mimed a beautiful three point shot.

"You both missed. We won't win the championship with shots like those." A little light teasing was part of building team spirit. His players knew to keep away from personal insults.

The boys laughed and returned the tease with one of their own. Ricky, of the failed three-point shot, started in on his coach. "You're late coach. Did you lose your watch?"

"Nah, he overslept. Too much partying last night, Coach?" Jack, the team's starting center, joined in. Both boys repeated Pete's frequent jibes to his team.

"Hey. Give me a break, huh? Am I ever late?" Pete's parents had drilled into their son the importance of being on time. He was punctual to the extreme; except today. He knew his team wouldn't let him get away with it.

"You know the punishment for being late. Ten laps on the track, now." All eleven players spoke in perfect unison. Pete laughed, knowing they had definitely practiced that rebuke. Okay, he would play along.

"I can't. I…uh…hurt my toe." He told the truth, never one to lie to his kids. Although he did hope they wouldn't ask how he hurt it.

"Uh, huh, wanna try another one?" Again, they spoke as one. All of them trying to look stern but snickering as they put their coach on the spot.

"It's true. I did cut my toe." Pete raised his right foot a little off the ground. He hopped on one foot as he tried to keep his balance. "It was bleeding and everything."

"Coach? Isn't that what you would call a mighty convenient excuse?" The boys crossed their arms and each tapped one foot on the ground.

"Yes!" Pete laughed. "How about we change the subject? Let's talk about grades."

He grinned as the boys teasing stopped at the mention of their grades. To Pete, coaching meant making sure his players were working toward a high school diploma. It wasn't a league rule, but it was one of this coach's rules. To play, the team members had to maintain a B average. He willingly tutored those who needed help with their schoolwork and the graduation rate of his players was one of the reasons that juvenile officers referred troubled kids to him.

For once, the boys didn't hesitate to show him their report cards. There was a C here or there, but all of the team met the B average requirement. Pete was very proud of his players and he told them so. They wore big smiles as practice began for real.

They were working on protecting the ball when Pete snuck up and stole the ball from behind Chris. He was stressing the need to be aware of where the other team's players were when he noticed something. Someone was peeking at them from behind a large tree. It wasn't unusual for people to watch them practice but this person seemed to be trying to avoid being noticed. He made a jump shot before going to investigate the stranger behind the tree. It was the last person he expected to find.

"David? What are you doing here?" Pete hadn't seen the boy since he stopped dating Judy, David's mother.

"I wasn't going to bother you. I…um..um" The boy lowered his head, suddenly shy around Pete.

"Relax, take your time." Pete touched David on the shoulder, trying to reassure the boy. "Tell me why you are here."

Tears welled up in the boy's eyes as he looked up at Pete. "I missed you. Why don't you come around anymore?"

"I've missed you too." In fact, he missed David much more than he missed Judy. How could he tell the boy that his mother had refused to let him see David? "Does your mom know that you are here?"

The eleven year-old shook his head.

"You shouldn't have come here without asking. She must be worried about you." He didn't want to scold the boy. God knew Judy would chastise both of them.

"I wanted to ask you. I called, but hung up when Mom saw me using the phone." That solved the riddle of the phone calls. Pete ran a hand through his hair. His players, who knew that gesture as one of frustration, finally came over.

"We'll take him home Coach. Practice is over, right?" His players had come to view the boy as a mascot. Pete knew they would get him home safe, but that would be the coward's way out of the situation.

"Thanks, but I'll take him home. Put the balls back in the gym and run five laps before you finish." The teens said goodbye and went to run their laps. Pete, his hand still on the shaking boy's shoulder, guided David to the car.

"Pete? What happened to your car?"


	6. Chapter 6

David insisted on examining the damaged fender, which got the attention of the players, who stopped running laps to check out the fender too. With a loud sigh, Pete told the story of Cindy and her excuse that the car got in her way. There was no way that he was going to bring up the "toe incident".

"What an idiot!", "How does a parked car get in someone's way? "Did it come to life and jump in front of her?" Pete expected comments along this line, but the next question caught him off-guard.

"Hey Coach, how about letting us fix it in auto shop? We ran out of cars to learn on."

Now, Pete was caught in a quandary. The thought of his beloved car being used to teach auto-body repair terrified him. How to get out of this without insulting them or hurting their feelings? Most of all, he didn't want to discourage the teens. Too many of them had been let down before by adults they trusted.

"Hold off on those plans. I have to work out things with my insurance and the girl's parents. It may be that the work has to be done by a professional in order for the insurance to pay for it. If not, then we can talk to your shop teacher." That seemed to accept that, for now.

As he got into the car, Pete paused halfway in and motioned, with his thumb, toward the track. "Hey! Don't think this gets you out of finishing your laps."

Once David was buckled in, Pete turned the key to start the car. He loved the sound of the powerful engine roaring to life. He knew that David loved it as much as he did. The boy often begged for rides in the mustang and frequently urged Pete to drive fast. Pete was sure that this would be David's last ride in the car and decided to give the child an exciting ride. This meant taking the highway. It was the longer way to the boy's home, but it gave them more time with each other.

Pete intended to talk to David about the way things are now between him and the boy's mother during the ride to his home. He was about breach the subject when he decided that he needed a wardrobe change before her returned the boy to his mother. Her objection to him wearing anything with a reference to the LAPD was another sore spot. She often accused him of trying to guide David into a career as a policeman. An eleven year veteran of the LAPD, Pete was well aware of the dangers of the job; He had come way to close to dying several times. He would never encourage anyone he loved to become a cop and he did love David.

"Are we going to your apartment? I thought you were taking me home." David had noted the change in direction and he seemed pleased about it. Pete understood why.

"Yeah, I need to change clothes. Besides, it might be better if you gave your mom a call to let her know that you are safe and will be home soon." Pete debated with himself as to whether he should tell David to not say that he was calling from his house.

"Do I have to? She's going to yell at us." Pete didn't miss the "us" part of the boy's concern.

"She's going to yell at us either way. " That much was certain. "I'll call her, if you want."

Pete pulled the mustang into his regular parking spot and cut the engine. He looked around wondering if he could find a safer spot. He left the car where it was. There didn't seem to be anything safer than where his car was: in the middle of a line of cars. His passenger hesitated to leave the safety of the car to get closer to a phone.

"C'mon David. It will be alright." Pete's attempt to reassure David didn't seem to work. His key was barely in the lock when they both heard the phone ring. There was an audible groan from Pete's left.

"It's her! I know it is. Don't answer it Pete, please." A part of him grew angry as the boy seemed to cower at the sound of the phone. What had Judy been saying to the boy to make him that afraid of her calling?

"I have to answer it. Work could be calling." Pete opened the door, ushered David in first, and answered the phone. "Malloy" He wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. "HI Mac. Yeah, I just go home. What's up?"

"Val Moore called me a few hours ago. He wanted to know if we could switch the training report meeting from Friday to Tuesday. Can you have everything ready by then?"

One of the responsibilities of a training officer was to file a monthly evaluation of the probationer they were working with. Those reports were then reviewed by the Chief Training Officer, who would go over the report with the Training Officer. Any questions and concerns were covered before the CTO met with the head Watch Commander. Together, they would meet with the Captain and brief him of the rookie's progress or lack thereof.

"Maybe." Pete hated to leave it open but he was missing six out of ten reports.

"Maybe? Is that what you want me to tell the Captain? If I can switch around my schedule, you can too." Mac rarely became annoyed with Pete, but his tone of voice was a dead give-a-way this time.

Three less days to prepare his report didn't exactly thrill Pete. He sighed as he began to calculate exactly how much time he needed to get that report ready for the captain and who he had to prod into turning in their reports. A few more would surely be at the station waiting for him, but experience told him that Ed Wells would not have his ready.

"Tell the Skipper that I'll have it ready on Tuesday; So much for the rest of my days off." Pete grumbled, feeling justified in being exasperated at some of the training officers. Chasing around fellow officers, nagging them to do their paperwork, isn't the job he signed on for.

"I'll let him know. The meeting is at two. " Mac hung up the phone without even a goodbye.

Putting the receiver down, Pete told David to help himself to something to drink while he changed his clothes. The fact that he had a date later occurred to him as he took off his sweaty jeans and t-shirt. He definitely needed a shower. David was already watching television so Pete took a quick shower and put on one of his better suits. This way, he would be ready for his date whenever he finished what else he had yet to do today. He was coming down the hall and tying his tie when the phone rang again.

David jumped as the phone range; He really didn't want to talk to his mother. Not that Pete could blame the boy; he didn't want to talk to her either. Pete mentally braced himself as he answered the phone.

"Hello?" Pete glanced at David once more as he waited to find out who was calling this time.

"Malloy? It's Murphy, from the station. Can you work the PM watch today? We're short-handed. I heard about your toe, so I'll put you on the desk." The sergeant chuckled softly.

"Very funny, Murphy. The answer is no. I will be in later to pick up the training officer reports so if you see any of them make sure to remind them that I needed those reports yesterday." Pete wasn't sure if the question was serious or not, but he had no intention of working today. "See you later."

He did recognize this as omen it was. Murphy's comments confirmed what he knew this morning; Hhis toe and Mrs. O'Brian was now the latest joke at the station. The officer removed his off-duty weapon from the lock box and hooked it onto his belt. His intention now was to take David home to his mother. The way Pete saw it, calling would result in both of them being yelled at twice. He turned off the television and motioned for David towards the door. Again, the phone rang….


	7. Chapter 7

Before he answered the phone, Pete turned to David and handed him the keys to the mustang. A feeling deep in his gut told him that it was Judy calling; He wanted to spare David hearing what would, most likely, be an unpleasant conversation.

"Why don't you wait for me in the car? I won't be long." He patted the boy on the shoulder and gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. The older man wasn't the least bit surprised to see the lad grab the keys and head towards the car. The phone was still ringing.

"Hello", Pete sent a glance heavenward in silent prayer that it wouldn't be Judy on the other end.

"Pete? Thank God. I've been calling you for the last three hours. Is David with you?" If there was one fact he was sure of, it was that he was still in his apartment three hours ago, but he refrained from pointing that out to her.

"He's waiting for me in my car. I stopped here to call you before I brought him home. He's alright." When he finished answering her, he started to count the seconds it took before she spoke. The longer the pause; the worse the response would be. Pete was up to "Six Missi" when she started in on him.

"How could you take him without my permission? Do you realize that I was about to call the police?

"But, I didn't…"

"How would that look for you when he was found in your car? I told you to stay away from him. You could get him hurt."

"Calm down!" So far, he had kept him temper, but she was nearing the limit of his patience, something that was already stretched thin with the kind of day he's been having.

"Maybe I should report this to your superiors. Child stealing is a crime." The threat caused that Scottish/Irish temper of Pete's to explode.

"Don't you dare threaten me! I haven't stolen David and you know it. If you weren't being such a hard ass about things maybe he wouldn't have to sneak out to see me. I said he was fine. Or are you going to call me a liar too?" Pete stole a look through the curtains to make sure that David was in the car and not coming back to the apartment.

"Don't you swear at me Peter Malloy. That's the kind of behavior that I want to protect my son from."

"I can assure you that David knew the word _ass_ long before he met me. I'm pretty sure he also knows the word _bitch_ too. Now, if you want your son home soon, then shut up so I can drive him there." He would never call a woman a bitch outright, but implying it was another matter. Pete slammed down the receiver and seriously considered pulling the phone from the wall.

He grabbed his suit jacket, shut off the lights and left the apartment; totally ignoring the phone that had started ringing again.

He slowly walked towards his car in an attempt to calm himself down some before he got inside. If possible, he didn't want to let on to the boy see how mad the phone call had made him. He needed to be calm to have the talk with David that he knew he needed to have. How do you justify cutting someone you love from your life? His heart urged him to promise David that it was only for a while, but the realistic voice in his head argued against saying anything he wasn't sure of.

Pete stopped mid-step when he got his first view of the boy in his car. David sat in the front passenger seat; there were tears in those deep blue eyes and his head slung low. The sight tore at Pete's heart and he silently cursed Judy.

"Now, let's take that ride. Are you ready for some fun?" Pete pretended not to notice when David wiped his eyes and sniffled. They needed time and some distance before he could explain things to the child. David didn't ask who was on the phone, almost as if he wanted to avoid hearing a goodbye from the man he loved like a father.

They had been riding in silence for ten minutes when David reached over to turn on the radio. Jim Croce's song "Lover's Cross" filled the car. Pete quickly changed the station. He wasn't sure if the song was God's weird sense of humor or an ironically bad omen.

Once he entered the highway, he floored it; enjoying the dizzying sense associated with a rapid increase in speed. Pete let up on the gas pedal when the car reached highway speeds. He wouldn't go over the limit, but he didn't need to. For once there weren't too many cars on the road and Pete could avoid the constant starts and stops common to California highways.

For a time, they both forgot about anything else; they simply enjoyed the ride and the company. They talked about the basketball team and the coming tournament; the guitar the youngster was trying to learn to play and the upcoming Boy Scout camping trip David would be going on. Pete shared with David stories of his boyhood in Seattle; The friends he had and the dumb things that kids do. David laughed hysterically when Pete told him how he and his cohorts had once been caught spreading fresh manure on the front porch of an unpopular teacher.

Finally, Pete turned off the highway and pulled into a park that was close to David's house. He stopped the car near a small pond and shut off the engine. As much as he didn't want to, he knew it was time for that talk, but not here in the car. With a wave towards the passenger door, he opened his own.

"Let's take a walk David. It's almost time to get you home." In actuality, he had not told Judy when he would be bringing her son back. He was running out of time though. There were other places he needed to be. Silently, the towhead joined his friend on the path around the pond. Pete spoke softly.

"Your mother was very worried about you when she called. I understand why you didn't tell her that you were coming to see me, but you can't do that again." Pete sat on one of the benches and tapped the wooden seat, indicating that he wanted David to join him.

"But….she won't let me see you. She says I can't call either." Already, he was visibly upset; a stray tear slipping down his cheek.

"I know. She told me the same thing. You do know that your mother and I are not a couple anymore, right?" While he wasn't tearing, Pete's eyes mirrored David's feelings of separation.

"Uh huh. She said you abandoned us. That you don't love us anymore, but that's not true. I know it's not." Damn that woman. He ran his fingers through his red locks, clearly upset and frustrated.

"I do love you and I care about your mother, but we want different things in life. That's why I stopped seeing her. It has nothing to do with you. Do you understand?" He wondered how much of this made sense to a ten year old.

"That's why I can't see you now. Your mother is upset that I decided to break-up with her. I think when she calms down, that she might let us see each other once in a while." Pete pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to the crying child.

"Really?" David wiped the tears from his eyes and blew his nose. When he tried to return it, Pete told him to keep it.

"I hope so. Come on back to the car and I'll drive you home." He held out a hand to the boy he once thought would be his step-son. Together, they got back in the car and drove the rest of the way in silence. When they arrived, Pete parked the car at the curb and got out. He opened the door on the other side and ushered David out. He knelt down and gave David a final hug before standing and pointing him towards the door. Pete had seen men walk into prison with more enthusiasm, but they weren't ten and due for a good scolding from their mother.

"Remember, I love you David." By now, Judy had opened the door and looked about to say something in response to that; Pete had no desire to hear anything she had to say. He got back into his car, gunned the engine and took off, heading towards the station. God protect the first man who mentioned his toe….

 **A/N. For copy write reasons, I didn't include the lyrics to "Lover's Cross". However, it is available on You Tube and most music sites. Listening to it might give you an idea about why I chose to have Pete break up with Judy.**


	8. Chapter 8

"Everyone and their grandmothers must be on the road today." Pete was muttering to himself as he kept tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. It wasn't like he had anything else to do; traffic had been stopped for the last twenty minutes. He was too far away to see what was causing the traffic jam. All he knew was that it was getting late. He had hoped to stop at the station and leave while the day watch was out on the road and before the PM watch members were due to arrive. If he had gotten there when he wanted to, there was a much less chance of being teased.

Eventually, whatever had caused the problem had been resolved. While he saw no sign of an accident, there was an officer directing traffic. The officer wasn't anyone he knew but Pete did take notice of his technique. The young officer seemed to be having fun. It was ninety-five degrees out and this guy was practically dancing as he waved cars through.

"Sun Stroke. It has to be." That was the only thing that made sense to Pete who palmed the job off to Reed whenever he could get away with it. Pete was about to say something else when he realized that he was talking to himself. When had he started doing that?

He was almost at the station, when he remembered this morning's call from his mother; and the check he had told her was already in the mail. Pete had gotten the check ready and sealed in an envelope, but had had no stamps left. Instead of turning left towards the station he turned right and made his way to the post office. He was surprised to see that there were only two people in line. He might make his self-imposed deadline after all.

Fifteen minutes later, Pete finally pulled into the station parking lot. A quick glance at his watch showed that it was 3:10. If all the reports were ready, he would be able to get out before too many people saw him. His first stop was the locker room, where he had left the four reports he did have. Thankfully, it was empty and Pete headed for his locker. There it was, completely covered with band aids and red stained handkerchiefs. Purely by instinct, Pete hauled back and delivered a hard right fist to the locker door. All that accomplished was a sore right hand.

Furiously, he started ripping the bandages and cloth from his locker door. Pete was almost done when he heard the locker door open and close.

"Hey Pete, don't you need those for your booboo toe?" Snyder, it would be him. Pete rolled the bandages into a ball and hurled it at the other officer.

"Stow it, Snyder!" He glared at Snyder, almost daring him to say anything. To his credit, the younger officer knew when to back off.

"Sorry Malloy. I heard about this morning is all. Willard made it sound funny. I'll come back later." Snyder was about to make a wild dash towards the door, when Pete spoke up.

"No, get what you wanted. Sorry, it's been one of those days." Pete was honestly bothered that he let his temper get so out of control. More than bothered, he was embarrassed by it. Pete opened his locker, took out the reports and left without saying a word to Snyder.

There were a few officers in the hall as Pete made his way to the Watch Commander's office. Other than a "hi", everyone was uncharacteristically quiet. Murphy was sitting at the desk when Pete walked into the office. The sergeant looked up and chuckled.

"Bad day, Pete?" Murphy had a few years on him, in addition to out-ranking Pete.

"Huh?" Pete stared at Murphy. Was his bad mood that obvious?

"You're real quick on the uptake today, aren't you? Did your bleeding toe make you light-headed?" Murphy was getting too much enjoyment out of this.

"Do you have any training reports for me?" His attempt to get Murphy off the subject didn't work.

"A suit and tie? Are you taking your landlady to dinner to thank her for fixing your toe? It was the big toe, right?" Pete had left the office door open so the laughter behind him caught Pete by surprise. He spun around, hurting his toe in the process, to see Williams, the desk officer standing in the doorway.

"Do you think something is funny Williams?" The question was tinged with a hint of intimidation. Williams had more years on the force than Pete did, but being the Senior Lead Officer, did have its advantages.

"Henderson told me to give this to you." The officer handed Pete a training report and left as fast as he could go. Murphy continued to chuckle at him.

"How long have you been practicing that scowl, Pete? It's very effective. Do you do that all the time or only when you have a booboo?" He was moving papers around on the desk looking for something.

"I started doing it the day after I got off probation and saw my first rookie. Please tell me that you have five reports to go with the one Williams brought in." Pete's optimistic side half hoped that all the reports were turned in; his pessimistic side knew better.

"You're the hopeful one, aren't you? Sorry Pete, including the one Williams brought in, I have three." Pete thought he saw a hint of pity in the sergeant's eyes. Murphy had once been the CTO; He knew the frustration Pete was now feeling.

Pete took the reports, glancing at the names of the officers who had turned them in. "It figures. Wells and Greene never get them in on time. Walters is missing too, but he's at least been out sick. Isn't Greene working the PM watchh?"

"He's doing a double today both day watch and PM watch." Murphy just put a bullseye on Greene.

Malloy happened to look at the hallway at the perfect moment; Greene, who was walking towards the Watch Commander's office, did a quick turn away when he saw Pete.

"Hey Greene, can I see you a moment?" There was a patient tone to the request, despite Pete's rising blood pressure.

"Er….I need to get back out on the street. Catch me later?" Greene's eyes darted back and forth. Presumably he was looking for the nearest exit.

"No, now. Surely the citizens of our great city can wait a few minutes." There was no way Pete was letting this mouse of of the trap. "Where is the training report on Jenkins? Yesterday was the last day to turn it in."

"I'll do it tomorrow after my shift, promise". The officer took a couple of steps, backing away from Pete.

"Today Greene. I want that report before you leave the station tonight. I don't care if you do it instead of taking seven or stay overtime, but you will have it in today. Understood?" Pete had taken a couple of steps towards Greene and was glaring down at the shorter officer. His eyes, which got darker when he was pushed too far, were the color of an angry Atlantic Ocean.

"Yes, Sir. I'll make sure it's turned in before I leave." He quickly agreed and even gave Pete a salute before rushing away.

"Wow", the sargeant chuckled, "I haven't seen something like that in a long time. You had him sweating down to his shorts." Murphy paused before adding, "I am impressed. Where did you learn that?

"Val Moore was my training officer. I couldn't begin to count how many times I was on the other side." Pete was laughing too, now that Greene was out of ear shot. "Now, where is Wells?"

"He's not working until midnight." Murphy caught the sinister gleam in the younger officer's eyes.

"You could talk to him after you work the PM shift." So, Murphy had been serious when he called Pete earlier.

"I have a date Murph. I only wear a suit to work when I've been in court." Pete grabbed a folder from on top of the file cabinet and placed the TO reports inside. "Would you leave a note for Mac, asking him to speak to Walters and Wells, please?"

"I really am strapped for men on PM watch. Even Reed agreed to come in." He paused playing Pete like a trout caught on a hook, "I might need to put him in an L can. I hate to do that to anyone on a Friday night."

Pete knew what Murphy was doing; appealing to his sense of responsibility for his partner. He wasn't happy about what the sergeant was doing, but Jim was much more than just his partner.

"Fine! I'll cancel my date, but that was a low blow Murph, and you know it." Murphy was openly grinning at Pete.

"I had Val as a TO too."


	9. Chapter 9

The hall outside the Watch Commander's office was becoming crowded with both officers finishing up their shifts and those who were due to hit the street at four. Murphy was getting together the paperwork he would need to conduct the roll call briefing. Pete still didn't think that he had the patience to deal with a locker-room full of comics. Stalling, he reached for the short pile of messages marked for him; He tucked them into the file he had and motioned towards the empty room that was attached to the WC's office.

"Hey Murph. I've got some phone calls to return before watch. I'm going to go in there and use the phone. Jim can fill me in on the briefing." He flashed a half smile at Murph and shrugged his shoulders.

"I shouldn't let you get away with that, but I'm feeling charitable. After all, you are one of the walking wounded." He wasn't fooling the sergeant, but Murphy shook his head and chuckled as he let Pete off the hook.

The layout of the office meant that Pete was out of sight. He wasn't that worried about the men on the PM watch; most of the men either didn't know him well and those that did knew better than to get him mad. He would get into his uniform once roll call started and he could dress in peace. Usually Pete didn't shy away from the teasing; it went with the job. Today was different though. If he was honest with himself, he hasn't been on an even keel for a few weeks.

The actual break-up was simple compared to the fallout that came in its wake. Jean Reed has been short with not only him, but Jim. She and Judy were close and Pete was absolutely certain that the version Judy gave to Jean had more than a little English on it. Mac had cornered him last week; the calls from his mother were to stop. Even Jim, tired of hearing Jean complain about Pete, was not fun to be around. Having to cancel his date just added to the list. Then, there was David.

All of it had left him with a very short fuse.

Pete blessed Murphy's kind understanding. The locker room was empty and Pete dressed in silence. He managed to make it to the tail end of roll call. As quietly as possible, Pete snuck in the door and took a seat in the last row. Jim glanced back and flashed Pete a smile, which the older man returned, wondering if Jim knew what had happened with David.

Roll call ended a few minutes after Pete sat down. The officers walked past him as he waited for Jim, who, as usual, had taken a seat in the front. Once Jim reached his row, the two of them fell into step with each other. After years of riding together Jim's natural place was on Pete's right.

"Thanks for working tonight Pete. I really didn't like the idea of working an L car on a Friday night." Jim paused before adding, "Murphy said he" railroaded you into it."

Jim turned, meeting Pete's eyes, as if he was wondering which Pete he was riding with; was he spending this shift with the angry one, the sullen one or some strange new version of his friend? The hesitation and fear, yes fear, he saw in Jim's eyes disturbed Pete almost as much as David's tears did. Has he really been so bad this last month? Pete grabbed Jim's arm, steering him into the breakroom.

"Sit down Jim." Pete filled two cups with coffee and tossed twenty cents into the kitty. He set one cup in front of Jim and took the seat opposite his best friend. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed loudly.

"I don't know where to begin." He leaned back in his chair and raked his hair again with his fingers. He couldn't even look Jim in the eyes.

"I owe you an apology. It can't have been easy for you to be riding with me lately." Jim started to speak, but Pete held up a hand to stop him. "No, let me finish. This last month has been a beast, but I should never have taken it out on you. I know that Jean has been on your case because of what I did to Judy. My temper hasn't been under control. I am sorry Partner."

"That's okay Pete. I'm just glad that you aren't mad at me for the way Jean is behaving." Jim was actually trying to take some of the blame. "She doesn't understand how it was."

"Do you?" Pete reached for his coffee. "I haven't been honest with you about everything."

"I have eyes Partner, and ears. She was complaining more and more; It sound like she was trying to change you into a carbon copy of her dead husband" Jim paused a moment to let that sink it then burst into a wide grin.

"Did you really call her a bitch this morning?" He was having trouble to keep from laughing.

Pete burst out laughing. "No, I called her a hard ass. I only implied that she was a bitch."

Jim spit coffee across the table. "I don't think she got the distinction, but Jean did."

"Is that bad or good?" Both brows rose up and Pete's head tilted to the side. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

"Good. Calling Judy a bitch was the best thing for you to do. Jean knows you well enough to know that Judy had to push you really hard for you to call her that. We also didn't like her saying that you stole her son." Jim smiled and Pete felt better than he had in weeks. It felt good to have some back-up.

"We're good?" Pete asked.

"We're good." Jim grinned again, then he downed the rest of his coffee; His partner did the same.

"Let's hit the streets before Murphy tries to rope us into doing a double shift." Pete was almost out the door, but he paused and looked back, checking needlessly, to see if Jim was following him. "Thanks Partner"

"1 Adam-12, PM watch clear." Jim waited for dispatch to acknowledge the clear before turning towards his partner. He flashed Pete a full on grin and started filling Pete In on the latest "Jimmy" story.

"You'll never guess what Jimmy did this morning. I thought Jean was going to have a kitten when she came home." He paused, waiting for Pete's reaction; He was an old softie about his Godson.

"Got away from you, didn't he?" Pete didn't have any experience as a parent, but he had been a mischief maker as a child and saw some of that in Jimmy. He did his best to encourage the child in the pursuit of the pure joy that is mischief.

"How'd you know?" Jim wondered if Jean had told Pete about the "incident".

"Lucky guess. What did he do? Did he finally manage to paint the cat?" Pete had been watching Jimmy a few months ago when the boy, who had been watching his dad paint the day before, grabbed a wet paint brush and went after the cat.

"Worse. The cat would have been easier to clean up." Something in the tone of Jim's voice told Pete who it was that did the cleaning up.

"We were watching Sesame Street in the living room when the phone rang. He was singing along with the show, so, I , uh, left him alone while I answered it. "

The non-parent was already laughing; this was going to be good.

"I was only gone for five minutes, but…" The radio interrupted Jim's story.

"1 Adam-12. Public works reports a blown out traffic signal. The Watch Commander requests that you direct traffic until the stop-light is fixed. Respond Code 2." Both occupants of the squad car groaned at the assignment. "1 Adam-12, roger."

Pete flicked on the reds, using them to move cars out of their way. He then parked the car in the parking lot of a closed deli, grabbed his hat and exited the car. Jim had his hat in hand as he assumed that he would be taking the first turn at directing the traffic. The temperature was hovering around 98 degrees and there was little to no shade available, making the job worse than usual. Jim's jaw dropped as Pete strolled into the middle of the clogged up intersection and started to direct traffic. What was up with his partner?


	10. Chapter 10

Although he had his back turned away from Jim, Pete did catch the expression of shock on his partner's face; it was caught on the large side mirror of a small moving truck that was stuck in the middle of the traffic snarl. The intersection was a mix of blaring horns, yelling drivers and pedestrians taking advantage of the stopped traffic. Amongst all that was a well-dressed man who seemed to believe that the drivers would follow his directions. From what Pete saw of the man's technique, he was making matters worse. To his credit, the man quickly gave up once he spotted the officer.

Pete walked, almost unnoticed, into the center of the mess and stood perfectly still. He didn't blow a whistle; he made no overt attempt to direct anyone. All he did was to stand there patiently waiting. Little by little, the horns and the shouting stopped as the drivers noticed the silent policeman in their midst. Once he had their attention, Pete began to wave the lines of traffic through the intersection. The crowd of spectators actually cheered when the traffic started to move smoothly. Some of the drivers waved to the officer in a gesture of thanks. Out of the corner of his eye Pete saw his friend shaking his head in amazement. Jim was good at directing traffic, but Pete definitely was better at it.

Jim made a few attempts to relieve Pete, but the senior officer refused the help; instead telling Jim to co-ordinate with the public works personnel. There was something peaceful about directing traffic successfully. It was the satisfaction of a job well done, but it was more than that. Imposing order on chaos had the effect of calming the mind. It slowed down the officer's thoughts; allowing him to see his problems from a different angle. The annoyances of the morning faded away, mostly. Even as he made up his mind to enjoy the shift, there was a tickle in the back of his mind saying that the day wasn't over yet. A lot could still happen.

Eventually, Jim did force Pete to switch places with a bottle of ice cold water and an admonition about Pete's tendency to get sunburned on a cloudy day. Malloy had accepted a seat in the shade provided by Pop's Newsstand. He kept an eye on Jim while he passed the time talking to "Pop", who told him that Duke wanted him to stop by his restaurant. Chili Cheeseburgers weren't exactly on Pete's diet, but he could suffer them to find out what Duke wanted. For now, it was time to give Jim a rest.

Pete took one step, then two before he heard someone to his right yell "Look Out!". That was all the warning he needed; Pete hit the sidewalk and the traffic light mechanism that was being replaced, barely missed him as it swung from the wire meant to hold it in place. Pete was starting to get to his feet when Jim reached him. He accepted the offered hand and stood, dusting off his uniform. Pete pointed to the now stopped traffic and sent Jim back to working on it. The apologies of the workers were accepted and yet, Pete kept watching the swinging light. Was that a warning; another omen?

"1 Adam-12 Clear. Man Pete, that was close!" Jim was still watching Pete as he drove. "You sure you're not hurt? We can swing by Central Receiving."

"Partner, I'm fine. Let's get back to how my Godson got the best of you this morning." He wanted to avoid Jim's mother hen routine, which now that he thought about it was a bit strange. Had Jim not heard about his car, Mrs. O'Brian and his toe? Or, was he wise enough to not mention it, yet.

Jim launched into the story; He loved talking about his son almost as much as Pete enjoyed hearing them. Of course, Jim didn't know that his friend occasionally gave the boy ideas. There had been that time that he and Jean ran into each other in the grocery store. While Jean was picking out a head of lettuce, Jimmy's loving Godfather showed him how to pull out the orange at the bottom corner of the display. Jimmy squealed in delight as all the oranges rolled onto the floor. Jean was horrified and Pete had to hold his sides from laughing so hard. Jean had told Pete not to laugh because it would encourage her son; little did she know.

Jim hadn't gotten far in the story when Pete swerved and then slammed on the brakes. What Reed didn't see, Pete did. A multi-colored ball had rolled out from between two cars, followed closely by a toddler. The car didn't hit the little boy, but he had fallen down on the pavement. The child's mother picked him up and turned on the two officers. She laid into both of them, blaming Pete for almost hitting her son. Thankfully, Jim took the lead on this one:

"Ma'am? Your son ran into the street. It was all my partner could do to avoid hitting him. It wasn't my partner's fault." First rule: attempt to reason with the mother.

"Not his fault? Look at my son. He's hurt and I'm going to sue both of you and the city too." She held the boy in question up so that Jim could see how badly her son was hurt.

Pete was discreetly speaking to witnesses and getting their names, just in case. Since there was no property damage they had no reason, yet, to call in Accident Investigation. Pete listened with half an ear to the exchange. It was times like this when Malloy was extremely grateful to have Jim for a partner.

"I see that he was hurt, Ma'am, but skinned knees are not your typical suing type of injury." How was Jim able to keep a straight face?

"But, he's bleeding! Why haven't you called an ambulance for him?" Reed reached into his pocket, took out his handkerchief and offered it to the woman.

"An ambulance is for people who are really hurt. I can't call one for _this_." By this time, Pete was leaning against the squad car, snickering.

"For THIS? What kind of a crack is that? My son is hurt." Once again, she held the toddler out to show Jim the slightly bleeding knees. He used the handkerchief the woman had ignored to dab at the tiny amount of blood on the child's knee.

"See? He's all better." It was worth a try. A small part of Jim's jaw had begun to twitch. Pete knew that happened when his partner's patience was being sorely strained.

"You're not a doctor! Don't touch him!" This woman was, in Jim's opinion, insane.

Finally, Jim got the woman calmed down and sent along her way; with instructions to keep a better eye on her son. As he walked towards their unit, Jim gave Pete the evil eye. He would pay for leaving that mess to Jim.

Pete had barely started driving when Jim looked him over carefully; considering something. A few minutes later, Jim turned to his best friend and spoke.

"Are you okay Partner?" Pete eyed Jim suspiciously. Why would he be asking Pete that?

"Yeah, why?" Malloy gave his uniform the once over, in case it was still dirty or had gotten torn.

"It's just that you slammed the brakes down really hard. Are you sure you didn't hurt your toe?" One corner of Jim's mouth started to rise into a half grin.

"Very funny, are you planning on clearing us anytime soon?" It wasn't a strong rebuke, but maybe it would quiet his younger partner. Especially when accompanied with a glare. Jim, unfortunately wasn't about to be put off that easily. He cleared the unit with dispatch and went back to offense.

"Shouldn't we stop to see if your toe is bleeding? If so, I can drive you to Central Receiving so they can put a bandage on your booboo." There was an audible groan from the driver's seat.

"Can it Reed. If you are holding onto any hope of driving in the future, stop, now." Pete didn't expect Jim to stop. He knew that he long ago lost the ability to put his younger partner in his place. Over the years, Jim had, in Pete's mind, grown into an equal partner; even so, he knew that Jim still held on to a bit of that hero worship most rookies have for their training officer.

"Oh, that's right. Murphy said that Mrs. O'Brian fixed it for you. It was the big toe on your driving foot, wasn't it?" Jim flashed Pete the biggest grin.

"We better check it Pete. You wouldn't want to pass out from the blood loss."

Pete sighed; it was going to be a long night,…


	11. Chapter 11

"A Distemper shot wouldn't be a bad idea, considering." Jim was on a roll and there was no sign of him letting up on his partner. Desperation turned into inspiration; He knew how to divert Jim's attention.

"How about seven? Pop's told me that Duke wants us to stop by". Pete, an experienced angler, paused for ten seconds or so before continuing. "Wouldn't a chili cheeseburger hit the spot? Call it in, will you?"

"Don't think you're going to distract me with food, unless you're paying." Jim's grin said it all; he knew he had Pete cornered. Pete huffed and agreed to pay for dinner. Jim grabbed the mic and requested the code seven.

"1 Adam-12, continue patrol and handle this call. Possible 211 in progress, Sherman's Liquors, 1357 Comstock. Respond code 3." Routinely, the partners didn't chat while responding to a call. Each would be readying themselves to deal with whatever came.

Pete cut the siren off as they neared the store then parked the squad car out of sight in a side parking lot. The partners were familiar with the store's layout so there was no need to plan their approach. Pete would position himself by the front door, Jim at the back. They would hold their positions until back-up arrived, unless the situation changed. There were two robbers inside, a tall black haired man and a blonde woman. The siren of a passing ambulance spooked the pair into running out the back door; totally forgetting the money they were asking for.

Jim hadn't gotten into position when the 211 suspects burst through the back door. He yelled for Pete and took off running after the man; leaving the woman to Pete. Malloy's first thought at seeing his partner chasing the man was that Jim had left him the easy one. That was a mistake.

The young woman ran like a gazelle. She leapt over a short wall and wasn't slowed down by it. As he passed the fourth intersection, Pete was getting closer, but he was also looking around for Reed and the squad car. He thought he had her when she ran into the backyard of a small ranch house. The property in back was lined with very tall bushes. "Got Ya." Pete slowed slightly to avoid barreling into the girl, who dropped onto all fours and scooted under the line of bushes.

Determined to not lose her, Pete tried an old baseball move. How many times had he tried to slide headfirst into second or third base, arms held in front as he attempted to grab the bag before being tagged out? He was lying in the dirt, the braches of the bushes scratching him, but he also had gotten hold of one of the girl's ankles. Now, he was stuck. She screamed and attempted to kick him in the face with her free foot. Dodging the kicks kept him from crawling out on her side and putting her under arrest.

"Hey Malloy, do you need help or do you want us to leave so you two can keep playing footsie?" Pete recognized Rich Cushman's voice. That meant that the other set of shiny black shoes belonged to Phil Keating.

"Very funny, Cushman. When are you resigning to do stand-up?" A sarcastic comment was all that question deserved. Besides that, Pete was rapidly losing his temper because the young woman was still trying to kick him. She let loose with a string of vile curses and insults. It was when she questioned Pete's parentage that he lost it.

"Take her now, Rich, before I let her loose on you." Cushman had squatted down to see Pete and his laughter died in his throat. Malloy looked mad enough to wring his neck. To his credit, Keating took the girl by the arm, lifting her off the ground and stopping her attempts to kick Pete. Once she was handcuffed, Pete drew back under the bush and stood up.

"Give her her rights and transport her back to the liquor store. Reed and I will handle the report and booking her and her accomplice." One glance at his uniform was enough to let him know that there was no way to dust this off. The shirt was muddy and had been snagged on the branches; both knees were torn open. At least he didn't have to walk back. Jim had finally arrived with the squad car.

Reed was leaning back against the side of the car in a perfectly clean uniform, arms crossed over his chest. Pete growled at the smirk Jim gave him.

"Look at your uniform. You just had to go and play in the mud, didn't you?" Jim was scolding him the same way he did his son, which did nothing to improve Pete's mood. Once he was close enough, Jim reached over to pull a twig from Pete's hair. The older officer scowled and grabbed Reed by the wrist.

"Touch me and you die!" At that instant, Jim almost believed him. Now was not the time to mention to Pete that he had a slight limp to his walk or that his knees were bleeding. Pete opened the right front door of the car and got in. He stared up at his stunned partner.

"Are you gonna get in and drive or do I have to hitch-hike back?" Jim could hardly believe that Pete was volunteering to ride shotgun. Pete was notorious for his stubborn insistence that he did the driving; only allowing Jim to drive the minimum amount of days. This change in his friend concerned Jim more than anything and he wondered how much more Pete could take. They rode back to the liquor store in silence.

By the time they arrived back at the liquor store one of the back-up units had taken down all the information needed for the report. In addition, Cushman and Keating had elected to transport the prisoners for them. Reed found out all this while Pete continued to sit in the passenger seat drawing stares from the officers still on the scene. Jim knew they were curious, heck, so was he, but that rain cloud hovering over Pete deterred anyone from asking questions.

Once they arrived back at the station, Pete headed towards the locker-room to change. He grabbed a fresh uniform from the dry-cleaning rack and walked to his locker. He detoured slightly, long enough to wet a handful of paper towels that he could use to clean his knees. Pete laid the uniform on the bench while he dug in his pocket for the key to the locker. Eventually the entire contents of all his pockets were spread out on the bench.

Pete was opening the locker when he heard the door open and close. He shook his head; instinctively he knew he didn't want to find out who came in. The sound of approaching footsteps almost hid the sound of his clean uniform sliding off the bench and onto the floor. Pete bent down on one knee to pick up the uniform. While he was already half-kneeling, Pete glanced heavenward and spoke out loud.

"Are you having a boring day up there God? If you have nothing better to do, can you at least shift your attention to someone else?"

"What kind of a prayer is that?" It was Murphy. What did he want now?

"One born of desperation Sarge." Pete stood up and hung his uniform in his locker. He undid his tie; tossing it into the locker. That he could clean. His shirt was beyond help. In frustration, he jerked the shirt open, sending a spray of buttons in Murphy's direction. The sergeant backed up a little, but didn't stop watching Pete.

"I would do a striptease for you Sarge, but there's no music." It was a snarky comment, but Pete felt no compulsion to defer to the still staring officer. He removed his badge, name plate and shooting brass, adding them to the coins and keys on the bench. He dropped the shirt on the floor. After removing his utility belt, which he hung on the locker door, Pete unsnapped the top of his pants

"Do you mind? Unless you really need to watch me, I would like a little privacy." He couldn't help it; Murphy was starting to give him the creeps. He wished the man would get to the point or leave.

"Don't mind me. I was wondering what you did to have destroyed your uniform that badly. I can read it in the report." Murphy was half-way out the door when he suddenly turned around.

"Now I remember. I didn't want to post a message for you. It's no one else's business, really." The guy's hemming and hawing wasn't helping Pete's mood any.

"Spit out Murph, so I can get changed in peace." Murphy's eyes had taken on a "deer in the headlights" look. Clearly he was wary of delivering the message.

"Some woman called and wanted you to call her back." Pete knew the name without asking, but he asked anyway and Murphy confirmed Pete's assumption.

"She said her name was Judy."


	12. Chapter 12

He needed to get out of there now. Murphy's visit had proven that the station's locker room was not a refuge. At any moment, someone else might walk in. Pete needed solitude, but where? He quickly finished getting dressed; stopping only long enough to bandage his knees. It was while he was putting on his shoes that Pete noticed that his sock was wet; his toe was bleeding again. Ignoring it, Pete put on his shoes and left the locker-room.

Duty told him that he should go to the report desk and help Jim with the paperwork; instead, he turned left and exited the building. He went to the far side of the station, which had no windows, in an attempt to calm his mind. This frustration and anger had to stop.

Meanwhile, Jim was working on the arrest report but he was growing worried. It wasn't like Pete to disappear while working. He knew that Pete was in the locker-room the first time Murphy went looking for him, but not the second time. Any noise made Jim look up, hoping that it was Pete. It never was.

"Reed, do you know where your partner is? Sgt. Murphy said he can't find Pete." Jim's attention was focused towards the locker-room; He didn't notice the captain's approach from behind. Unlike Pete, the presence of the captain made him nervous. He shook his head, not sure what to say about his missing partner.

"Murphy told me that Pete seemed off his game today. Do you know what's going on?" The Captain seemed more concerned than mad and that gave Jim the courage to speak. He knew that Captain Moore had been Pete's training office and considered him a friend, despite the rules of rank.

"Some of it, Sir. Um, can we talk in private?" Jim wouldn't repeat anything Pete had confided to him in secret, but he knew he was out of his element. He didn't know how to help his partner; he also felt guilty about teasing Pete as much as he did. Captain Moore nodded and then led Jim back to his office.

"Have a seat Jim." It wasn't lost on Jim that the Captain had called him by his given name instead of his surname. He was talking as one friend of Pete's to another. "Mac spoke to me earlier. He said that Pete seemed to be working with a short fuse. Has he been losing his patience?"

"Not with the public, Sir." That answer told the captain more than Jim had intended it to.

"I see." Captain Moore paused, considering his next question carefully. "You mean that he's been short with the other officers? Do you know why?"

"Pete's been having a hard time recently. Like today, someone hit his car and his ex has been harassing him. Plus, my wife has been giving him a hard time. You know the way it is around here, Sir; the taunting gets worse when people know you are not in a good mood." Jim decided he had said more than enough.

"Where is he now, Jim?"

"I'm not sure, but my guess would be that he went outside." Jim knew Pete well enough to know that he wouldn't totally skip out on work, but he might have felt the need for some space from it. Jim had to ask: "Sir? Is Pete in trouble?"

"Thank you Jim. I'll look for him outside. You can return to your paperwork." It wasn't a "yes", but it wasn't a "no" and Reed wondered if he had done the right thing in talking to the captain.

Pete hadn't left the grounds, but he had gone as far as he could go and still, technically, be at work. The captain finally found him sitting on a low retaining wall in the back corner of the property. The shadows from the trees were providing the perfect cover; Pete was barely visible. He didn't seem to notice the captain's approach or he didn't feel the need to acknowledge it.

"You could send up smoke signals so I wouldn't have to go searching for you." The Captain's tone was light with no hint of condemnation. Pete quickly stood up as much from surprise as from respect.

"Sorry Captain. I didn't know you were looking for me. I'll go back inside." Pete tried to walk around the captain, but Moore wasn't going to let him get away that easy.

"Sit down Pete. I want to talk to you a little before you go back to work." To Pete's surprise, the captain took a seat on the adjoining retaining wall. They sat in silence for a while; falling into the old, familiar way of partners. Finally, Captain Moore spoke.

"What's going on with you Pete?" There was no accusation in his friend's voice, only concern.

"Nothing Skipper, I needed some fresh air, is all." Pete wasn't about to spill his guts that easily. He had always been the independent type. Sharing his feelings wasn't in his nature; neither was lying.

"Look me in the eye and tell me that." When Pete didn't repeat the denial, his friend shook his head. "You always were a lousy liar. Since the day we started riding together, I could always tell when you were evading an answer. You can't look a person in the eye and lie to them; not when it matters. Poker doesn't count."

"I'm hoping to get better at it someday." Despite his sour mood, there was a hint of a smile in the younger man's face. "Being a walking lie-detector has its disadvantages."

"It's one of my favorite things about you, Fox." The use of the old, familiar nick-name had the effect of wiping away any divisions of rank; Pete was talking to his TO, his friend, not his captain.

Thirty minutes later, Captain Moore knew it all: the problems with Judy before and after the break-up, the loss of David's company, Jean's anger at him, pressures on him that no one else even knew about, Tony Johnson, his car and, finally, his frustration with having to chase other officers to do their job.

Well, he did ask.

"Is that all?" There was a slight chuckle embedded in the question. Val Moore understood why Pete had been "less than civil" around the station. There was a side-effect to Pete's confession; Moore's admiration for Pete grew. With all that going on in his life, Malloy had never stopped being a pro in regards to his duties.

"No." Pete paused just enough for Moore to raise an eyebrow. "My toe is bleeding."

It felt good to be laughing. Finally having someone not directly involved to talk to was a relief. Pete wondered if the captain was aware that he had, essentially, provided the same service a priest did.

"You haven't asked me for my advice, so I'm not going to give you any. Most of that will work out or it won't, but their effects will lessen with time. As far as the problems with the training officers themselves or late paperwork, I'm leaving that up to you. Murphy said you were very effective with Greene. I'll back you on whatever call you make regarding training."

"Oh?" The tilt of Pete's head and the raised brow posed the unasked question; How far would the captain back him?

"I learned a long time ago to trust you and your judgement. I'd be a fool to promote you and then not take your advice." There was a slight pause before Moore asked his next question.

"Your problem child? Do you want to tell me now?" Neither one had any doubt that they were talking about the same officer.

"Not yet. There are a few things I still need to figure out about him." The CTO side of Pete was sure about that aspect of the problem child's actions because they hindered Pete's ability to do that job. The Senior Lead side of him was troubled.

It was his job to keep an eye on the other officers; to make sure they were focused on the job, especially while on the street. Over the last few months, it seemed to Pete that Wells was behaving strangely, not every day, but enough that Pete had noticed. Wells was distracted during calls, sometimes making rookie mistakes. He would withdraw; content to let others handle things. He was uncharacteristically quiet in the locker room. He had hoped that given time, Ed would work out whatever was bothering him. Ed wasn't the best cop, but he was better than this. Pete wanted to find out why Ed was changing before he brought it up. He thought it could wait until Tuesday's meeting. Ed was a barrel in a river; rushing towards a waterfall and Pete missed it.

The captain stood and motioned towards the station. "I think Reed is waiting for you."

Pete appreciated the captain's support but he did have a question for the old man.

"Did someone send you to look for me? Was the complaint about me being gone?" Pete wouldn't have been surprised to find out that one or more, people had brought up his attitude of late. Captain Moore, paused, one hand on the door into the station.

"No. I wanted to speak to you about taking the sergeant's exam this year. We can talk about that on Tuesday too."

 **A/N. I've always thought that a name like "The Strawberry Fox" is the kind of nick-name that developes over time. As if he earned the nick-name "Fox" (for his abilities and his intelligence), then someone made it "The Red Fox" (For his hair) and red became Strawberry. In addition, no one would address him directly as Strawberry Fox.**


	13. Chapter 13

For the moment, Pete was going to ignore the captain's interest in whether or not he was going to take the Sergeant's exam. The truth was that he hadn't made up his mind yet. Taking a promotion would require him to give up being Chief Training Officer. Pete considered that job more important than being one of several Watch Commanders. A division was judged by the quality of its' officers, especially those that began their careers in that division. As CTO, it was Pete's job to ensure that the rookies received the best training possible; Training that could be the difference between that officer's life or death.

Pete look at his watch, he had left Jim to the paperwork almost an hour ago. He hoped that Jim would understand, but he grabbed some hot coffee to soften his reception. Jim looked up as the cup of coffee was set down in front of him and smiled. If his partner needed time away, Jim wasn't going to hold it against him. The coffee was followed by one of Jim's favorite candy bars. That got Jim laughing.

"Are you feeling guilty Partner?" It was a friendly little nudge.

"Pick on me and I'll eat that myself. You can have the wrapper." Pete appreciated Jim's unspoken pardon for the transgression of leaving him to get writer's cramp. "That should hold you until we can get seven. Do you have much more to do?"

"I'm almost done. Eh…Did the captain find you?" Jim had been second-guessing his conversation with the captain. Part of him felt like he had set Pete up for the captain's wrath. He wanted to know what happened, but he wouldn't ask.

"Yeah, he found me outside. Thanks for covering for me." Pete knew Jim wanted to know the details of his talk with the captain, but he didn't think he had the words to describe what had passed between them. Reed had stopped writing and was tapping his pen on the surface of the report desk. Clearly, he wasn't going to finish the arrest report until Pete told him something.

"Everything is fine Jim. We talked for half an hour about a lot of things." Pete paused, wondering if he was going to have to say more. "He said he would back me on training issues and he wants to try and convince me to take the Sergeant's exam this year."

"Are you going to?" The tone of his voice led Pete to believe that Jim wasn't happy about the prospect of breaking up their partnership. They had been riding together for a long time; much longer than most pairings. Pete's only answer was a shrug of his shoulder as he took a seat to drink his coffee. Ten minutes later, the reports were finished and handed in. They left the station; determined to get seven before they got back to patrol. Since Duke's was closed by now the partners settled on Biff's diner. After placing their orders, Jim began to finish the story of Jimmy's latest misadventure.

"I hung up the kitchen phone and found Jimmy standing next to me. He had a bottle of baby powder in his hands. Before I could stop him, he jerked the bottle and sent a puff of power into the air. He smiled and said "Look Daddy, snow!"

Pete choked on his coffee.

Once Pete stopped sputtering, Jim continued with his story. Jimmy tugged on Jim's arm, dragging him into the living room. Every piece of furniture, the rug and the curtains were awash in baby powder. "He looked up at me and said "See, Daddy? Pretty snow."

"It took me two hours to clean the living room and I'm sure I missed some of it." If Jim was hoping for some sympathy from his best friend, he was out of luck. Pete was laughing so hard that he could hardly breathe.

"You think this is funny? Jean went as white as the room when she saw it. She even blamed me for giving him ideas. I don't know where that kid gets some of his ideas."

Pete knew.

He wasn't sure if he should admit to his inadvertent part in Jimmy's escapade or run for the hills. A few weeks before, Pete had been babysitting while Jim and Jean went to a wedding. He opened up the hall closet for a new tube of Jimmy's toothpaste, but had accidently knocked over a partially closed bottle of baby powder. Jimmy's eyes went wide at the sight of the white plume and said "Ohhhhh, Pretty!" To which his Godfather had replied: "yes, pretty snow."

"Kids, who knows what gets them going." Pete, having decided to feign ignorance of the whole incident, still couldn't stop laughing. One of these days, he was going to be busted by Jim or Jean, but not today. Most days Pete would have admitted to his accidental involvement in one of Jimmy's adventures, but he had a nagging feeling that he needed to stay in Jim's good graces tonight. Jim reached across the table and stole the apple pie from in front of Pete.

"You laugh at me and I eat your pie. That seems fair to me." Considering his part in the mess, Pete conceded the pie to Jim.

After dinner, the next hour passed by quickly. They ticketed three speeders, conducted one drunken driving test, handled one loud party call and one stolen car report. In between the calls, Pete told Jim about Tony Johnson's request. His thought being that if he didn't go, Tony might turn to Reed for help. Jim's reaction was the same as Pete's. He also mentioned Judy's call to the station.

"1 Adam-12, See the woman, prowler there now. 748 Bell Ave. Respond Code 2" Luckily, they weren't far from the address. As the car pulled along the curb, a young woman ran out of the house yelling that the prowler was inside. She couldn't give a description, but said that the prowler had entered through the dog door in the kitchen. Leaving her outside, the two officers entered the house.

"Ugh! What is that smell? Is that a skunk?" Jim pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and covered his nose in an attempt to breathe easier. One question was forefront in his mind; why hadn't the girl mentioned the smell? Didn't she have a nose?

"No. A skunk would make your eyes water at this distance. It's a possum," Pete, having grown up on a farm was much more familiar with the smells of nature. A peek into the kitchen confirmed the presence of a possum.

"Help me with this." Pete was attempting to move a bookshelf in front of the kitchen entrance. Things would be much easier to handle if the possum stayed on its side of the barricade. Once it was in place Pete spoke to Jim. "I'm going to call Animal Control. You keep an eye on her."

"What do I do if it tries to get out?" If Jim had his way, the only animals in the city would be dogs and cats, with the occasional bird.

" _She_ won't, but if she gets close, make some noise. Maybe you can frighten her into leaving by the dog door." Pete let out a large sigh and walked back to the bookcase barricade. "You call Animal Control. I'll watch her." Twenty minutes later, the possum, not finding anything to her liking, left the same way she got in.

They were driving away, when it finally occurred to Jim to ask Pete how he knew it was a female possum.

"Come on Pete. Tell me how you can be sure that was a female Opossum?" I mean, you didn't turn that thing over to check what it was." Jim was sure Pete was pulling his leg. "One big rodent looks like any other big rodent doesn't it?"

"Didn't you take biology in high school? She wasn't a rodent. She's a marsupial; a totally different species." As he teased Jim, Pete began to realize how much better he felt. A lot of his frustration and anger was gone.

"I was absent that day. Besides, that still doesn't answer my question. What makes you so sure it was a girl opossum?" He flashed a grin at Pete, who caught the fact that Jim insisted on calling the animal by its' proper name.

"The female possums are smaller and the hair under their chin is whitish. Males are bigger and their front hair is stained yellow." His Grandfather called them possums and if it was good enough for him, Pete wasn't going to change to the more annoying opossum.

Jim noticed that Pete kept checking something in the rear view mirror and turned to see a large red pick-up. It kept coming close to the back of the squad car and then dropping back. They watched the truck for a few blocks, but when they turned off Lancaster, the pick-up kept going. Jim shrugged, still wondering what was up with the pick-up truck, but they had no probable cause to stop it. His attention shifted to the radio as he heard their unit being called.

"1 Adam-12, See the man, 415 fight at the Palomino Club. 19875 Figueroa Blvd. Respond Code 3." Pete flicked on the red lights and siren and stepped on the gas. As he drove towards the bar, there were two units that offered to back them up. The Palomino was a big place; they were sure to need help.

When they pulled up to the bar, the bartender ran up to Jim's window. He pointed towards the door. "Get in there. Those two are tearing the place up."

Pete and Jim grabbed their batons before heading into the bar. There were two men rolling on the floor each one trying to hit the other one. They were surrounded by a very vocal crowd who were cheering them on. The officers had to push their way through the unfriendly crowd, who didn't want the fight broken up. There were even people placing bets on who would win. Jim grabbed one fighter as Pete pulled the other one away. Both men resisted, but eventually Pete got control of his suspect. He had the guy's arm pinned to his back and was putting the first cuff on the man. Before Pete could secure his prisoner a woman screamed and jumped on his back. Her attack was enough of a distraction that Pete lost control of the man he was cuffing. The large gentleman spun around, slamming a fist into Pete's left eye. As Pete was going down, he wondered where in hell the back-up units were.

Jim, while still struggling with his prisoner, had heard people laughing and yelling about a cop being down. Knowing that it was only the two of them, Jim tried to catch sight of his friend. He too wondered where their back-ups were. Even with his prisoner now handcuffed, Jim couldn't leave him alone and he didn't see anything to cuff him to. It tore at Jim, seeing Pete take a kick in the gut. That guy meant to hurt his partner. Jim dragged his prisoner towards the last place he saw Pete. The crowd tried to keep Jim away, all the while urging the man to kick Pete again.

The first kick to his stomach knocked all the wind from his lungs. Pete barely got out a gasp of pain before the man kicked him two more times. Any attempt to try and stand was stopped by the woman who was still clinging to him, her arm around his throat. He grabbed her arm, pulling it away from his neck. Her response was to bite his arm. He gasped in pain, feeling her teeth sinking into his flesh. Using his free hand, Pete attempted to dislodge her from his arm. He didn't even see the kick to his back coming.

Then suddenly, Jim was there. A back-up unit finally arrived and Jim had shoved his prisoner at them before going to help his partner. Jim jerked the kicking man back, keeping him from hurting Pete anymore. Another officer had grabbed the woman, forcing her to let up on the bite. With the help of an officer from the second back-up unit, the kicking man was secured. When he was able to, Jim looked for Pete. Worry filled his eyes as he rushed to his partner's side. Pete was still down and obviously in pain.

Jim knelt beside Pete, willing to offer any help the older man would accept. Pete stubbornly insisted on sitting up without help. His left eye was already starting to swell and blood ran down his arm. Pete didn't know if he should hold his gut or his arm. Jim had taken it upon himself to tend to Pete's arm. The fact that Pete let him do it added to Jim's concern for his partner.

"Call him an ambulance." Murphy had shown up and was taking charge of the situation. The woman and both men were arrested and the bar patrons cleared out.

"I don't need an ambulance. " There was no way that he was getting in one of those. Pete was shaky as he tried to stand, but Jim was by his side, discreetly steadying him. Between the two of them, they were able to convince Murphy to let Jim drive Pete to get checked out. Pete would usually have begged off a visit to the hospital, but the bite on his arm was deep. There was too much chance of it getting infected.

"Thanks for saving me back there." For the second time that shift, Pete found himself riding shotgun. He looked up at the stars and silently asked a question; Are you done with me yet, God?

Central Receiving's ER was busy, but they ushered Pete into an examine room; bleeding people tend to be put at the head of the line. Also, the staff tried to take care of policemen as soon as possible. Pete hated driving past a hospital; being a patient was one thousand percent worse. He lay on the stretcher, holding an ice pack to his eye. A nurse was cleaning the bite while the doctor kept probing his abdomen. Pete's insistence that his stomach was fine had no effect on the doctor, who said he was worried that Pete might have injured his spleen. Finally, daylight! Pete grinned as he informed the doctor that wasn't possible since he lost his spleen when he flipped the squad car in Griffith Park. He was released with a prescription for antibiotics, due to the increased risk of infection from both a human bite and a missing spleen. Pete was just glad to be gone from there.

Pete let Jim drive them back to the station. In addition to the booking and arrest reports, there was now an injury report to write. During the ride, Pete reconsidered his earlier decision and told Jim about the powder spill that happened while he was babysitting Jimmy. Jim's jaw dropped and he stared at Pete.

"It was _your_ fault? You sat there laughing at me and all the while you were the reason why Jimmy did that?" This confession wasn't going the way Pete hoped it would.

"When were you going to tell me? Or did you plan on taking this secret to your grave?" Jim couldn't believe that his best friend had let him take the blame.

"No! I didn't tell Jimmy to spray the room with powder. I had forgotten about the spill. It was weeks ago." Maybe he could logic his way out of this.

"Okay, but why didn't you tell me this in the diner?" Jim had him there. Pete didn't think that his answer, which was that he was too busy laughing, would placate his partner.

"I didn't remember it until you told me about the 'pretty snow' and I, well, I didn't want you mad at me right then." Please Jim, let it go ran though his mind, but he didn't say it. Surprisingly, Jim did seem to be calming down some. Pete was home free, almost.

"Wait until I get home and tell Jean."


	14. Chapter 14

"You cannot tell Jean! It was an accidental powder spill." Pete was desperate. He couldn't have Jean finding out that he had anything to do with Jimmy's "pretty snow". If she connected Pete to this incident, she might start to connect him with a few other things: the oranges falling, jimmy's obsession with making raspberry sounds (usually in church) and the boy's new habit of sneaking his Brussel Sprouts to the dog during dinner. The dog's digestive system was not responding well to the vegetable. Worst of all, she might wonder if he had anything to do with Jimmy's learning a certain four letter word.

Jim knew about the last one, but had not told Jean where Jimmy learned what Jim referred to as "The S Word". A few weeks ago Jean was sick so Jim asked Pete to help take Jimmy to the church carnival. There was a large crowd, composed mostly of teenagers and young parents with kids in tow. The three of them had purchased lunch and were heading towards a picnic table when a group of boys knocked into them. Pete's meatball sub and chocolate milkshake ended up all over his shirt. The "s" word slipped out. Jimmy has the same ability found in most three year olds, to find the one word they shouldn't say and to keep repeating it.

Pete had no doubt that Jean would kill him.

"What's in it for me?" Jim was not going to make this easy on Pete. He had no idea how much Pete had riding on his silence, but he knew an opportunity when he saw it. Already, he was formulating a plan. He needed Pete's help with a little work around the yard.

"That depends on what you are thinking of getting me into." Pete was no dummy. The last time Jim had some leverage on him, Pete had ended up on Jim's roof, attempting to install a new television antenna. It had taken five hours, sixty-five feet of wire, most of Pete's patience and one trip to the emergency room before the antenna was up and working.

" _Jean_ wants that little sycamore tree in the back yard taken down." Jim was very deliberately emphasizing his wife's name; the one person Pete wanted to be protected from. Already, Pete knew he would have to agree to whatever Jim needed him to do. Jean is finally, according to Jim, giving Pete the benefit of the doubt about Judy and he wanted to keep her leaning towards his side of things.

"That…that dead one? The thing is almost forty feet tall. You are out of your gourd!" As far as Pete was concerned, the two of them taking down that tree by themselves was an invitation to disaster.

" _Jean_ really wants it taken down. You wouldn't want me to have to disappoint _Jean_ now, would you?" This was one of those times when Pete wished that Jim was still terrified of him.

"Fine, I'll help you, but you swear right now that Jean will never know about the 'snow.'" Jim crossed his heart and swore himself to silence. Now all Pete had to worry about was Jimmy telling his mother.

Even with the staff taking Pete quickly, the trip to the emergency room had taken almost two hours. They finally pulled into the station parking lot with a little over forty-five minutes left to their shift. Jim was out of the car and opening up the passenger side door before Pete could move. Malloy wouldn't admit it, but he was beginning to regret refusing the doctor's offer of pain medication. Jim hovered by the door. He was willing to help if Pete needed a hand to get out of the car. Pete got out slowly, under his own power, but the grimace of pain wasn't missed by his partner. Jim was positive the doctor was wrong about Pete being fit for duty.

Once they were in the station Pete managed to mask the pained look, but anyone who knew him well enough could see the hint of it in his eyes. The only outward signs were the swollen left eye and the bandage on his right bicep. Jim headed towards the lock-up to check on their three arrestees while Pete made his way to the locker room. His uniform had blood stains on it and needed to be changed. A few of the AM watch guys were already there getting ready. A quick glance around the locker-room confirmed Pete's assumption that Wells wouldn't be there yet. Ed's reputation for being late was well known around the division. Still, Pete would find him before he went home tonight. There were questions about Pete's general appearance and his injuries, but "bar fight" was the only explanation needed.

After Jim checked on the prisoners, he made his way to the report desk. He wanted to get the reports written as soon as possible so Pete could go home and rest. Sergeant Murphy saw Jim through the window of the WC's office, summoning hm in with a wave of his hand. He needed to talk to Pete, but Jim would undoubtedly know where his partner was. Jim informed the sergeant that Pete was treated and released. He also told Murphy that Pete was cleared for duty but that he thought his partner should have been put on light duty status

"Pete was treated by a brand new resident and he took advantage of the doctor's inexperience. He bullied his way into being cleared for duty." Jim was more worried about Pete's injuries than he was of Pete being mad at him.

The watch commander pushed the issue; asking if Pete was hurt that bad or could he work. Reed was about to ask why when Pete came down the hall wearing a clean uniform. Murphy waved Pete into the office at the same time he dismissed Jim, who hesitated but left. The sergeant was quiet at first; he was too busy giving Pete the once over.

"Are you well enough to work the AM shift?" The bluntness of the question caught Pete by surprise. He had expected to find Murphy concerned about his injuries, for his own sake; not to see if he could work.

"It's nice to know that you care, Murph." Pete tossed the medical release form on the desk. "I'm doing my arrests and reports, and then I am going home to sleep.

"But, can you work? Now?" Pete could hear the desperation in the sergeant's voice, but whatever the matter with him was, it was his problem. There was no way Pete was going to work another shift. He had been able to convince the doctor to not put him on restricted duty, but it was on the condition that Pete went straight home and called in sick if he was still in pain.

"I'd really rather not do another eight hours on patrol. As it is, Jim and I will be here for at least two hours finishing the paperwork on the bar fight bust." To emphasize the point, Pete was slowly making his way towards the door.

"Mac called out. His wife and kids were in a car accident." Pete stopped mid-step, this had gotten his attention. Murphy explained that Mac's wife was driving home when someone hit the car. Pete wished he would skip the details and give him the important information; were Mary, Billy and Elizabeth hurt? Billy and Mary had a concussions and Elizabeth had broken her arm. The hospital was keeping all three of them over-night for observation. Mac was staying at the hospital to keep an eye on his family. None of the other watch commanders could come in to cover for MacDonald; one was on vacation, another had a broken leg and the other two were each doing twelve hour shifts beginning at 8am and 8pm.

"Please Pete. I can't work a triple shift. There's no one else. No one on the AM watch is cleared to do the job. I've done most of the paperwork already. If you want, I will do roll call for you. That way you can help Reed with the reports." Murphy held up the briefing file used during roll call.

"Murph, I'm in no condition to work. My head is throbbing and my gut is black and blue." He understood the other officer's position, but he didn't think he would last for another eight hours.

"There's no one else." Murphy spoke so softly that Pete had barely heard him repeat that plaintive remark. It was the last thing that Pete wanted to do, but he owed Mac much more than working a shift for him. Against his better judgement, Pete finally agreed to work for Mac. He left to join Jim at the report desk to tell him that he was working the next shift. Jim would not be happy.

Jim argued that Pete wasn't in any condition to work and that he had promised the doctor he would go home as soon as his shift was over. Pete didn't dispute Reed's arguments. He agreed with Jim. In fact, Pete would have accepted an invitation to rest at Jim's house if it was offered, but he was stuck. Once he knew why, Jim agreed that Pete's working Mac's shift was the only solution, but he was still worried. He saw what Murphy didn't; the stiff way Pete was moving, the flashes of pain in his friend's eyes.

"Relax Jim. It's not going to kill me to work Mac's shift, but if it does….remember that I hate bag pipes." It was typical Pete; falling back on humor to diffuse a tense situation.

Murphy was true to his word. The paperwork was all done and roll call went on without Pete having to leave the report desk. He was working on the injury report when he caught sight of Ed Wells trying to hide behind Sanchez as they both went to roll call. Pete elbowed Jim, calling Ed's attempt to avoid attracting his attention.

"Wells, do you have a minute to talk to me?" Ed acted as if he hadn't heard Pete calling to him. There was no reason to stop Ed now. He would have to pass the report desk on his way out. Pete would "speak" to him then. Jim was positive that avoiding Pete would not help Ed get out of answering to Pete. Walters had turned in his report with an apology for being late. Pete had all the reports now, except for Ed's.

Roll call ended and the officers filed out of the room. Jim stood up when Pete did. Together they would make sure that Wells didn't slip past them. Ed made an attempt by turning left towards the front desk instead of walking down the hall towards the parking lot. Jim, who was always faster than Pete, had no trouble blocking Ed's escape and leading him over to Pete. Certainly Pete's anger wouldn't have been so strong if Ed had manned up to the problem.

"Let's you and I go into the office and have a little chat." Pete had a lot to say to Ed, but would prefer to confront him in private. Ed refused to go into the office. Perhaps he thought that Pete would hold back if they spoke in the hallway. " _You don't want to have this conversation out in the open_." The tone of Pete's voice was clear, but it was an omen for a fool.

"Hey Pete, I know the report was due before now, but, I promise to get it to you by….Tuesday. We're square? Right? Good!" Ed spoke even faster than usual but Pete wasn't buying any of it. He positioned himself between Wells and the exit. Pete could be very intimidating on a good day, but tonight, angry and in pain, even Jim wouldn't push him. The black eye made him appear slightly deranged as he tore into Ed.

"No. We are not square. You and I will never be square. I'm tired of chasing after you to get you to do your job. You haven't had a report in on time since I took over from Bentley. You still owe me last month's evaluation. Maybe he put up with this crap, but I have had it. I want that report before the end of this shift." Finally, Pete paused for a breath. Only Wells would be stupid enough to argue with Pete.

"Look, I'll get it in. I've…" Excuses were not going to work tonight. Pete wasn't cutting Ed any more slack. He had no intention of going into Tuesday's meeting with the captain unprepared.

"You've got no excuse that will work. Nothing short of being dead can justify being four days late this month. Nor does it excuse your constantly shoddy work. The reports you do submit are devoid of any relevant information regarding Fraser's progress. The only reason I know anything about Fraser's capabilities is because I rode with him on Wednesday while you were off. The guy has almost three months of your training under his belt and he couldn't tell me his location. Not to mention the fact that his radio procedure is terrible. What have you taught him besides the best places to eat in your district?"

The hallway had been empty when Pete invited Ed into the office, but now a crowd of officers from both shifts was gathering, drawn by Pete's tirade. Jim gave them a lot of credit for staying far enough away from Pete to avoid calling that anger down on themselves. That also meant that Pete didn't see the officers behind him. Jim assumed that Pete wouldn't have been so direct if he knew they were there.

"IF you don't want to do that job right or if you are unable to do it properly, then quit being a TO and stop being a pain in the ass." Pete paused a few seconds to let that sink in before he went for Ed's jugular.

"Otherwise, I'll have to do it for you." There it was, all laid out for Ed; Pete could and would see to Ed's removal as a training officer unless things changed. An uneasy silence filled the hallway. Few had ever seen Pete in full "dressing down" mode. Snapping at them was one thing; threatening to have Ed demoted went way beyond that.

"Don't threaten me. You don't have the power to do that" Wells countered Pete's threat, but there was no force behind it.

Pete had already turned away from Ed and was making his way into the watch commander's office. He turned as Ed spoke flashing him an evil looking grin.

"Try me."

Pete's dressing-down of Ed had made an impression on the officers who had the good fortune to witness it. No one said a word or moved until after Pete slammed the office door closed. Once Pete was out of earshot they started moving away from the scene. They didn't dare speak above a whisper as they made their way to their assigned cars. It made perfect sense; no one wanted to poke the bear.

Woods, who, along with Sanchez had heard everything, wasn't sure what to do. Ed had put up a good show of not being bothered by what Pete had said, but now that the crowd was gone he leaned back against the wall. He was shaking as he turned to Woods.

"Do you think he can do that?" His eyes were pleading for reassurances that Pete didn't have the power to have him removed as a training officer. Even if Ed kept his rank he would lose the bonus pay for being a TO. It was money he needed, badly.

"You know Pete. He wouldn't say something like that unless he was sure that he had the power to do it." Woods had wanted to ease Ed's mind; tell him that it was an empty threat. There was really only one thing he could say to Ed that made sense. "If I were you, I'd get that report done as soon as you can."

Jim was probably the only person in the building who would dare approach Pete. He paused for a quick look before he knocked lightly on the door. Pete was working on what appeared to be his injury report. He wasn't, as far as Jim could see, showing any signs of anger. Jim entered the office at Pete's invitation and closed the door. He still wasn't sure what to expect from his partner when Pete burst out laughing. Had Pete lost it?

"God that was fun!" Pete leaned back in his chair and grinned at his partner. Reed didn't know what to think; Pete was acting strangely. A few minutes ago, he thought Pete would set a new high on a blood pressure machine and now he was laughing.

"Do you know how long I have been waiting to really lay into Wells; to stun him into silence?" Jim had to admit, Pete did seem in a great, if weird, mood. "You should have seen his eyes. They were bugging out. That was worth all the trouble he's been giving me."

"I know this", Jim was starting to grin too. "No one is going to be talking about your toe anymore."


	15. Chapter 15

Jim was right. The talk around the station would no longer be about Pete, Mrs. O'brian and his toe; Ed had seen to that. What had just happened in the hallway would generate more questions than answers. Was Ed really that bad at fulfilling his duty or was Pete overreacting? Had Pete gone too far, considering that he had, seemingly, chosen to chew Ed out in public? More importantly, there would be many officers wondering if Pete had been bluffing or did he have the power to remove Ed as a TO. The older officers, the ones who knew Pete well, were sure of one thing; Pete didn't bluff.

"Sometimes, you amaze me Partner. " Jim was still taking immense pleasure in what had happened. "You had me fooled. I thought you were going to have a heart attack and here you were enjoying yourself!"

"I was having a ball." Pete was chuckling and Jim was very glad to see this side of Pete again. It had been too long. "Being a supervisor has its advantages. Even if Ed gets his act together, the other procrastinators won't want me to go off on them."

"I had forgotten how menacing and terrifying you can be when you get going. You haven't done that to me in a long time." From his first day on the job, Jim had received dressing downs from Pete. It's part of the TO's job; they have to impart a lot of knowledge in a very short time. Intimidation is a great motivator.

They were interrupted when the phone rang. Jim was still worried about Pete's injuries and so, he was watching carefully as Pete answered the phone. The phone was slightly out of reach and Pete had to stretch to answer it. Jim heard Pete wince; clearly his partner was in a lot of pain. While Pete handled the phone call, Jim left the office. He returned with a glass of water and a few aspirin. It wasn't enough to take away his pain, but it might help some.

Pete nodded a 'thanks' and continued to deal with the call. Jim left Pete alone and made his way to the report desk. There was still a lot of paperwork that needed to be done before he could go home. Jim had taken the time to call Jean and let her know that he would be late. He did notice that the officers in the hallway were being very quiet as they went about their jobs. Most attempted to avoid the watch commanders office, if at all possible. Jim had to laugh; if they only knew what he knew.

Over the next hour Jim dealt with a parade of curious officers. Walters was first, but he was quickly followed by Grant, Brady, Brinkman, Miller and a few officers Jim really didn't know since they weren't on his usual watch. None of them had been there to see what had happened and they all wanted Jim's version of the events. The interruptions were making it hard for Jim to finish his reports. When he couldn't take it anymore, Jim gathered up the paperwork and went to the watch commander's office.

Pete was on the phone, but he waved Jim into the office. The younger officer hesitated to sit down as he heard Pete's part of the conversation.

"Yes, I got the messages, but you know that I can't get personal calls at work. I am not going to discuss this with you now." Pete paused, listening to the person on the other end of the line. "I haven't spoken to Jean in days so don't blame me for that. If she's turning against you it is her choice. Look, I have to get back to work. Goodbye." This thing with Judy wasn't over yet.

"Coming In for the peace and quiet"? Pete chuckled; he didn't bother to try and explain the call; Jim already knew it all. "You can finish the reports in here. They'll have the same questions tomorrow."

There would be a lot of questions tomorrow but Pete didn't seem worried about it, so Jim wasn't either. Pete had taken this shift's paperwork and put it aside. He would have time to work on it once the arrest reports were done. Jim looked as tired as Pete felt.

Twenty minutes later, the phone rang again. Pete was pretty sure that it wasn't Judy. If she meant to continue arguing, she wouldn't have waited that long to call him back.

"Watch Commander's office, Malloy speaking. Mac? How are Mary and the kids? That's good to hear. What? Why were you calling my apartment? Well no, I'm obviously working." Jim hated hearing only one side of a phone call, especially when he had the feeling that Mac was not happy that Pete was working hurt. He did wonder how Mac found out about Pete.

"I'm okay Mac. I can work with a black eye. Yeah, I know. I meant to go straight home. How did you find out about me being hurt? It wasn't like that. No, don't come here. Mac, go back to Mary and the kids. You can yell at me tomorrow." Finally, Pete hung up the phone. He knew this wasn't the end of the issue. Mac would undoubtedly breach the subject of Pete's medical status again. Reluctantly, Jim stated the obvious.

"You didn't tell him about Wells."

"One thing at a time, Please. Besides, I still haven't figured out what is going on with him." He had discussed some of his concerns about Ed's state of mind with Jim. Pete gathered up their finished reports and put them into the "done" bin. "Go home Jim." It was said with a smile. Jim hesitated, but he was tired and he did want to get home. He told Pete to call him if he needed anything, then he left the office to get changed.

The first hours of a Saturday AM shift were always busy. Things only calmed down once the bars closed. Pete had a large pile of arrest reports that had been dropped off by members of the watch. He tried to concentrate, but between his headache and the lateness of the hour, he had no idea what he had spent the last twenty minutes reading. It was 3 am and he needed caffeine, desperately. There was always fresh coffee in the breakroom and Pete helped himself to a cup, and tossed a dime tossed in the kitty. The coffee seemed to help. Pete was on his way back to the office, when he turned a corner and froze.

A boy, about the age of fourteen, turned and pointed a gun at him. A group of officers stood further down the hall. Apparently, the boy, who was not wearing handcuffs, had been holding them hostage before turning on Pete

"Are you in charge here?" Damn those stripes on his sleeves. Pete nodded, never taking his eyes off the gun the boy held in shaky hands. From his current angle, Pete was almost sure the boy was holding one of the longer barrel "duty" weapon. The identity of its owner could wait till later. Pete needed to talk this kid down before things got worse. He told the gathered officers to stay back and let him handle it. Pete silently cursed when he saw that Jim was among them.

"Yes, I'm in charge. My name is Pete. What's yours?" Malloy had some experience dealing with armed and scared people. The wrong word spoken could spur the boy to shoot. Getting shot, again, was not on Pete's bucket list. His best chance was to calm the young man into surrendering.

"Why do you want to know my name? There ain't a sergeant or someone higher than you here?" The boy's eyes were darting back and forth between Pete and the door behind him.

"I just like to know who I'm talking to and no, at 3 am all you get is me." Pete kept his voice calm and level, despite the warning bells going off in his head and the churning in his stomach. He took the smallest of steps towards the boy. "Your name?"

"Stay back! I wanna get out of here." He was jerking the gun around so much that Pete was afraid it would go off accidently. Pete didn't move any closer, but he also didn't back away.

"I figured you did. Hey, I want to get out of here too, but I can't. You still haven't told me your name." Pete could see the officers behind the boy were trying to move closer to him.

"It's Eli. Now get out of my way and let me go. I'm not afraid to shoot you if I have to." Pete's assessment of the situation was that the boy didn't know just what shooting someone entails. It was relatively easy to point a gun at someone; pulling the trigger was much harder.

"Eli, shooting me won't get you out of here. It also won't make me happy. Trust me, I've been shot before. It's not fun." A little levity couldn't hurt. Pete kept his hands held out before him as he took one small step closer.

"Let me go….." Pete was going to take that hesitation as a good sign.

"Pete. Call me Pete." A slight wave of his hand signaled to the other officers that they should stay back. He didn't want the young man to feel crowded.

"Pete. Let me go." The use of his name was a good sign. He might be reaching the boy.

"I can't Eli, but I want to help you. Do you believe that?" Pete slowly moved closer to the boy. "I don't know why you were brought here, but whatever you did do; it wasn't as bad as what you are doing now."

"Pete. Don't come closer. I don't want to shoot you." Malloy stopped advancing towards the boy and held his hand out to Eli as he spoke slowly, wanting him to understand the possible consequences of his actions.

"Eli. Give me the gun. If you shoot me, those officers over there will shoot you. Think about that. I might survive you shooting me once, but you won't survive all of them shooting you." Pete paused a second to give Eli a chance to think about what he said. "I promise to help you. Give me the gun."

Eli lowered the gun and placed it in Pete's outstretched hand. Pete tucked the gun behind him and into his belt. He placed a hand on Eli's shoulder and waved for Brinkman to come closer. It was a guess, but Pete had a feeling that Brinkman wasn't involved in whatever caused this mess. To be sure, he asked Bob if he was responsible for the boy being here. Bob shook his head and gave a glance back at the other officers.

"Eli, this is Officer Brinkman. I'm going to have him take you to the lock-up. When I'm done figuring this out, I'll come and get you. Relax; no one is going to hurt you. You have my promise."

Brinkman took Eli by the arm and guided him into one of the holding cells. Pete leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes; He was breathing heavy and sweating. Jim had come close to Pete, asking him if he was okay. Pete collected himself and nodded to Jim before turning to stare down the officers who were still gathered in the hall. He held the gun above his head, careful to only touch the barrel.

"Who belongs to this?" Now that the danger was past, Pete felt the fear and internal panic being replaced by outrage. He wanted answers. Fast!

Slowly, Ed Wells raised his hand.

Pete couldn't believe his eyes. Was Wells really that stupid? He was in trouble before this shift started, but now, that incident was a paper cut compared to this. Pete asked Jim to take the "witnesses" to the roll call room with instructions to have each one write down exactly what they saw. As the group moved away, Pete reminded them to not discuss this among themselves until they were debriefed by detectives.

Their departure left Wells, Fraser and Pete in the hall. Malloy pasted on a smile and led both of them to the watch commander's office. He made a shushing noise when Ed looked like he wanted to say something. Instead of listening he grabbed a legal pad from the desk and handed it to Ed. Pete ordered him to go into the adjoining room and write out his version of what had happened from the time they left roll call until Pete encountered Eli. He touched Fraser on the arm, stopping him from following Ed.

"I'm going to have you write the same type of report that Ed is writing now, but I wanted to get your version of the events first. You're scared and I don't blame you, but whatever happened, this doesn't mean you will wash out. I just want the truth." That said, Pete leaned back to listen to the probationer.

They had rolled on a suspected 459 call and Eli is who they found. He was spray painting a mural on the side of an abandoned building. The paints were confiscated and Eli was placed under arrest. According to Fraser, he had begun to put the cuffs on the boy when Ed told him not to; saying that he was just a kid. Eli had behaved himself until they were escorting him down the hall to lock-up. The boy panicked and grabbed Ed's gun from his holster. In answer to Pete's question, Fraser informed him that Ed didn't keep his holster buckled closed.

Once he finished speaking, Pete handed him a legal pad with instructions to write down everything that happened on their shift. For the time being, he had Fraser sit at the report desk. Jim arrived with the reports of the witnesses and handed them to Pete.

"Did any of them see the boy steal Ed's gun?" Jim told Pete which ones saw everything; those were the reports he wanted to read first. "Go home Jim, and thanks." Those two versions agreeded with Fraser's account of the facts; the others hadn't seen the beginning of the incident. Ed returned with his version and asked Pete for his gun back. Pete refused and told Ed to get changed and leave. He would be called tomorrow. Uncharacteristically, Ed didn't argue with Pete, but left willingly. Fraser likewise was sent home. Pete picked up Ed's report first; he wanted to get Ed's version of the facts.

If he didn't already have a throbbing headache, Pete would have been banging his head on the desk. He never thought of Ed as having the talent to write fiction.


	16. Chapter 16

Before he went to see Eli, Pete made a phone call to a close friend of his who worked in juvenile. Over the years, Allison had sent him many troubled teens to coach in either basketball or baseball. It was time to call in a favor.

Pete found a dejected Eli sitting in the temporary cells in the station. He put his weapon in one of the lock boxes and let himself into the cell. He brought the boy a bottle of soda and a pack of peanut butter filled cheese crackers; there wasn't much of a selection in the station's vending machine. Meager offerings, but Eli didn't hesitate to dig into the snack. Pete had taken a seat on the bench next to the boy, waiting until he finished the crackers. He nodded when Pete asked him if he was given his rights.

"I called a friend to come help you. She's a sergeant in the juvenile division and knows that system better than I do. Since you've had your rights, I can't question you until your parents have been notified and a lawyer speaks to you. Technically, you don't have to tell me how I can get in touch with your parents. However, the faster we get this done, the sooner you can get out of here."

Eli, who was four when his father died, gives Pete his mother's phone number and address. Pete thanked him and promised to be back later. Somehow, he couldn't help but wonder if Eli's mother was up worrying about him. He hoped she was.

"You owe me big for this one Pete." Allison was waiting for him in the office. She was keeping busy reading the pile of reports Pete had left on the desk. He responded with his best charming smile; his green eyes sparkling. He had forgotten how soft her laughter was; their romance had been short, but they held on to the friendship.

"He's a scared kid Ally. I promised to help him get the best help available. That means you." Pete gave her Eli's phone number and trusted that she would take care of that end of things. Now, he had to do the hard part. He had all the witness statements, had written his report, had dealt with Ed and Fraser and seen to Eli. Calling Mac was next.

Central Receiving's policy was to cut off phone calls to patient rooms at 9 pm. There was only one way to reach Mac; he sent a squad car to the hospital with a message to call into the station. Pulling Mac away from his family didn't sit well with Pete, but he had no choice. Mac was the next step up the line of command.

While he waited for what he was sure would be an uncomfortable phone call, Pete's mind went back to his earlier shift and he smiled. He was sorry he had not been there to see the joy in Jimmy's eyes over the "snow". Pete had been there to see Jimmy repeatedly interrupting the minister's sermon with loud raspberry noises. He and Jim laughed, which only encouraged the lad to keep making that noise. Jean turned beet red and took Jimmy outside. Pete was also there the first time the dog threw up the Brussel Sprouts. Being a Godfather can be very rewarding.

"How about letting me in on the joke?" Pete, who had been leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, almost fell out of the chair at the sound of Mac's voice. Had Woods and Brady gotten the message wrong; Pete only wanted a call.

"Mac, you didn't have to come in. All I wanted to do was to fill you in on what happened tonight. Didn't they give you that message?" The tiny hairs on the back of his neck had started to stand up. This omen he caught onto instantly; Mac would only have come in if he was mad.

"Which thing did you mean to tell me about? Yelling at Ed in the hallway or bullying a resident into certifying you fit for duty?" Mac stood in the doorway, arms crossed against his chest. That blue eyed glare Mac gave him was enough to make Pete stand up. Mac was no less intimidating in jeans, a flannel shirt and cowboy boots than he was in uniform. Pete wanted to know who had told Mac about both of those things.

"In my defense, I tried to get Ed to come into the office before I spoke to him, but he was too busy trying to avoid me to do as I asked. I wouldn't have had to yell at him at all if he would do his job right." He was guilty of bullying the doctor, but felt totally justified in blaming the dressing down on Ed. "I can't do my job without the TO's report."

"That gives you the right to threaten to have him removed as a training officer, in public? That's a decision for the captain and me, not you." Mac had closed the office door; silently driving home the point about things being said in public versus those said in private. "You over-stepped your boundaries Malloy and you can be sure the captain will have something to say about it."

"Which training officers I choose to work with and those I don't is up to me. The Skipper gave me his full backing on any decision I make about the fitness of an officer to be one." Both men had their dander up already. This was not good.

"We'll see about that on Monday." Clearly, Mac was in no mood to give Pete the benefit of the doubt on this issue. "Right now, I want to know what you are doing here. Don't try and tell me that you are fine. I saw you wince when you got to your feet."

"I'm covering for you, isn't that obvious?" Pete, who hadn't slept in almost twenty-four hours, didn't make any attempt to hide the sarcasm.

"You know what I mean. Dr. Ankerson told me how you intimidated a resident out of putting you on light duty. That's the kind of thing I expect from Grant or Wells, not you." Pete intended to use the mentioning of Wells to his advantage. Perhaps he could redirect Mac's anger onto Wells.

"Wells is what I wanted to tell you about. He almost got some of us killed tonight." Pete paused a second, trying to read Mac's expression. "He brought in a kid, unhand-cuffed and let the kid grab his gun."

"Tell me about it." Mac, who was all set to continue yelling at Pete, stopped at that. His anger, for the moment, was replaced by concern for his men. Pete filled Mac in on everything that happened with Eli, including Ed's failure to keep his weapon secured. Pete handed Mac a file, thick with the reports.

"It's all in there Mac" Pete signed and leaned back, completely unaware that he was massaging his left temple. Mac had been watching Pete; he saw the stiff movements, the flashes of pain in his friend's eyes.

"I'll cover the rest of this shift. Bishop will be here before Mary and the kids are ready to come home." A part of Pete urged him to refuse Mac's offer, but he was too tired and in too much pain to resist. He slipped into his leather jacket and grabbed the file with the training reports in them. Mac approached the desk as Pete headed towards the door. As they passed each other, Mac took Pete by the arm.

"Stop at the hospital on your way home." He didn't give Pete a chance to argue with him. "That's an order. You need to get checked out properly this time." A trip to the ER wasn't in Pete's plan, but he really had no choice. Mac wouldn't let him work until he was properly treated. If Mac heard the grumbling Pete made, he didn't mention it.

During the drive over, Pete considered Mac's objection to him having the authority to remove Ed as a training officer. The captain had given him complete authority in matters relating to training. Essentially side-stepping Mac's imput. Would Mac push for limiting Pete's power? It was true that his recommendations were always followed; still, he didn't want to give up his new authority even if it limited Mac's.

Pete finally fully understood his Grandfather's favorite quote. Benjamin Franklin, who didn't like being called an "Englishmen" because he didn't have the rights accorded to other subjects of the Crown, said "It's like calling an ox a bull; he's thankful for the honor but would much rather have restored what's rightfully his." Pete wasn't born at the right time of year, but in his heart, he was a Taurus.

Pete was greeted at the door of the ER by the sixtyish Dr. Ankerson, head of the Emergency room. A nurse ushered him into an examine room, saying that they had been waiting for him. The doctor ordered an IV line put in, explaining that he wanted to shock Pete's immune system with an intravenous dose of antibiotic. The doctor was checking the bite when the nurse returned and injected something into the iv. Pete assumed it was an antibiotic, but he woke up five hours later with a prescription for some pain medication and a form putting him on light duty. He didn't bother asking them what that medication was.

Pete pulled out of the hospital parking lot with the intention of going back to his apartment. Fifteen minutes later he realized that he had been driving on autopilot and was not in the right neighborhood. He was, in fact, on the Reed's street. His self-conscience knew what he needed when his mind didn't. Pete needed some "Jimmy" time.

As he was walking up the driveway, the door opened and Jimmy came barreling out. He leapt into Pete's arms and gave him a big hug; one that Pete returned wholeheartedly. He was honored when asked to be Jimmy's Godfather, but he had no idea how much that would change him or how much he would grow to love the boy. Jean, dressed for shopping, had followed her son out the door. Pete offered to stay and watch Jimmy for her. She agreed on two conditions: do not wake up Jim and do not give Jimmy any treats other than the carrot sticks she left in the refrigerator. Pete smiled and agreed to her conditions and Jean left with a reminding word. "Remember, no sugar."

At Jimmy's request, Pete sent forty-five minutes on the floor of Jimmy's room playing car crash. He would build a house, or wall and Jimmy would ram it down with one of his toy cars. When the boy tired of that, they left a mess on the floor and were heading out back to play catch. Once they were in the kitchen, Jimmy asked for a drink of milk. Pete was pouring him one when Jimmy changed his choice to chocolate milk.

"That sounds good. I think I'll have one too." Pete's response was met with a smile from Jimmy. Right now, Pete wasn't too worried about Jean's rules. The first cabinet he opened had the Ovaltine Jean used for chocolate milk. Pete, who knew the difference between chocolate milk and Ovaltine, searched until he found the bottle of Bosco Jean used on ice cream. He poured a generous amount in both glasses before putting it back where he found it. Pete found them each a straw and as Jimmy started to drink, Pete got an idea. Instead of sucking up the chocolate milk, Pete blew into the straw. It didn't talk long to teach the boy how to make his drink bubble. Then Jimmy asked for something else: cookies.

Cookies were a problem. Jean wouldn't notice that she has less Bosco, but she would know if there were cookies missing from the bag of Oreos. Jimmy was insistent and Pete had no desire to deny him a cookie or two.. (He wouldn't be the one trying to get Jimmy asleep later.) Luck was on his side; the Oreos had been opened already. While Jimmy watched carefully, Pete pulled out the tray holding the cookies. He took four cookies from the back end, pushed the tray back and clamped it closed.

"Neat trick, Partner. You do realize that Jean will blame me for that when she finds those cookies gone."

Neither Pete nor Jimmy had heard Jim coming into the kitchen. A shrug of shoulders was the only response Jim got from his friend. Jimmy chose this moment to yell "Daddy, look" before blowing into his straw. The chocolate milk bubbles ran over the rim of the glass and onto the floor. The dog, who was watching closely for any dropped table scraps, started to lap up the spilled drink.

Pete didn't even try to not look guilty; he was too busy laughing.


	17. Chapter 17

"Here Partner, have a cookie." Pete held out an Oreo to Jim. Pete was well known for thinking on his feet; he knew if he could get Jim to eat an Oreo it would turn him into an accomplice. Jimmy parroted Pete's offer of a cookie. Jim had intended to play the stern father but the sight of both Pete and Jimmy grinning up at him, cookies in hand, was more than Jim could resist. He grabbed the cookie from Pete's hand and took a seat at the table.

"I'll make you a deal. I won't tell Jean about the cookies, if you make me some chocolate milk." While Pete filled a glass with milk, Jim reopened the Oreo package. He too, pulled out the tray to steal two from the back end of the tray. "If I'm going to take the blame for four cookies, it might as well be six."

"Hey. If you're getting your own, give me back my Oreo." Pete had opened the cabinet where Jean kept the Ovaltine. He paused to consider things before he removed the Ovaltine from the shelf. Pete brought the Ovaltine over to the table, opening it up with the intent of giving Jim some. His thinking being that it would be better if Jim didn't catch on about the Bosco. Pete hadn't counted on Jimmy pointing at the Ovaltine jar and saying "Yucky. Bad."

Pete paused; a spoonful of Ovaltine hovered over Jim's glass of milk. He had said the stuff was yucky when he put it back in the cabinet. However, he thought he had been talking low enough that Jimmy wouldn't hear him. Pete dumped the chocolate powder into Jim's glass, stirring it vigorously.

"Here you go Jim. Don't forget to dunk your cookie in it." Jim picked up his glass, noticing that his chocolate milk was much lighter than Pete and Jimmy's drinks were. He had an idea as to why they were different shades of brown and he made the obvious move. He stole Pete's glass.

Pete, who had been helping Jimmy dunk his Oreo, accidently dropped the cookie into Jimmy's drink while making a grab to get his Bosco back. Pete and Jim were too busy doing a two-person version of Tug-O-War over the much better Bosco to notice what Jimmy was doing. The child wanted his cookie back so he stuck his hand into the glass to reach it. The glass tipped over, covering the table and Jimmy in chocolate milk.

"****!" Both men turned to gape at Jimmy, who had used the "s" word properly.

"This is your fault." Jim was all ready to blame Pete for both the spill and the language. Pete countered the argument pointing out that Jimmy wouldn't have had to reach for his cookie if Jim hadn't stolen his Bosco.

"Bosco? You gave Jimmy Bosco and me Ovaltine?" That fact seemed to annoy Jim more than the spilt chocolate milk.

" _You like Ovaltine_!" Pete felt the need to point out the obvious to Jim, who seemed to be getting a little red in the face.

"I like Bosco better," Jim spoke as if his best friend should know at least that fact about him.

In the meantime, Jimmy was gnawing on a soggy Oreo. He was covered in Bosco, as was the table. The floor was practically clean thanks to the dog.

The two adults stopped fighting over the good chocolate milk when the phone rang. It being Jim's house, he answered it. Pete took advantage of the call to down the rest of the Bosco. From the conversation, Pete knew that Jim was talking to Mac. "Yes, he's here" caught Pete's attention. There was a series of "yes sirs". "No sirs" and "I'll tell hims". While Jim was on the phone, Pete started to clean up the mess. He was more concerned about Jean coming home than he was about the conversation on the phone.

"Take Jimmy and get him changed. I'll clean up the mess in here." Jim got the unspoken message; Pete didn't want to hear what Mac had said, yet. When Jim returned with a clean Jimmy, Pete was almost done cleaning up the mess. He brushed off Jim's offer to wash the glasses, telling him to take Jimmy out back to play catch. Once the kitchen was cleaned up and everything else put away, Pete opened the refrigerator to put the milk away. In plain view, sat the small plate with the carrot sticks meant for Jimmy's snack. To cover his tracks, Pete took a handful of carrot sticks off the plate. He ate three and gave another four to the dog.

An hour later, Jean returned to a clean kitchen, a surprisingly clean son and a dog that looked a little green around the gills. Pete and Jim had hardly spoken while they played catch with Jimmy. It hadn't escaped Jim's attention that his partner's mood had soured with the phone call from Mac. Jim was dying to know why but he knew not to ask. Pushing Pete wouldn't help. Jim learned very quickly on that Pete was a private person. He would share what he wanted to share when he was ready, not before.

The game of catch ended when Jean called in everyone to lunch. She had already set four plates with Turkey sandwiches on the table. It was assumed that Pete would join them. Jean offered the guys a choice between lemonade and iced tea. Both men held their breath and cast an eye heavenward, praying that Jean didn't offer Jimmy Ovaltine. The crisis was averted when Jean poured Jimmy a glass of apple juice.

"Pete, I meant to ask. How are you feeling?" Pete had assumed Jim told her about the bar fight because Jean hadn't been surprised to see him with a black eye. Jean was genuinely worried about Pete; he had noticed her watching him during the game of catch. Had Jim told her about his bullying the resident? Pete didn't ask.

"Not too bad, a little sore is all." Actually, whatever pain medication they had given him in the hospital had long ago worn off and he was feeling it. As much as Pete hated to take anything stronger than aspirin, he was considering getting that prescription filled.

"Mac said that since you were on light-duty, you didn't have to work AM watch tonight but that you needed to be there at 8 am tomorrow." Jim paused, hoping for a reaction from his friend, when he didn't get it, he pressed a little harder. "Did you go back to the hospital or is Mac putting you on light duty without a report from the doctor?"

" _I went back_ ", Pete's tone of voice said that it wasn't his decision to go back to the ER. Not that Pete was too upset about not having to show up for watch tonight. His head was starting to throb and his stomach hurt.

"Pete? Did you and Mac have a falling out?" Jim waited until lunch was over and Jean had taken Jimmy to put him down for a nap, before he asked Pete a few more questions. It wasn't what Mac said, but the way he said it that had Jim wondering.

"We have a difference of opinion. I believed the Captain when he said I had full control over all aspects of training. Mac feels that I overstepped my boundaries by threatening Wells. He is taking it to the Captain." Pete shrugged his shoulders, but was he really not concerned about his position?

"Well? What if Mac gets to the Captain?" Once again, Jim found himself trying to pry information out of his partner.

"If Mac makes enough of a fuss to get the Captain to change his mind, then the division will need a new CTO." Jim was still trying to wrap his mind around that when Jean returned to the kitchen with Jimmy in her arms.

"I can't get him to go down for a nap. Didn't you and Pete play with him a lot? He should be tired." Pete and Jim exchanged glances and silently agreed to not say anything about the "Bosco Fiasco".

"Let me try. I'll read him a book. It might help." Jim thought Pete volunteered in an attempt to avoid both his and Jean's questions, but he was wrong. Pete really did want to spend some alone time with his Godson. Time spent with Jimmy helped to center his mind.

Pete, who knew a sugar high when he saw one, choose a longer than usual Dr. Seuss book. "Horton Hatches an Egg" was a favorite of both of them. By the end of the book, Jimmy was drowsy, but not ready to sleep. Pete was about to offer to read it again, when Jimmy asked him for something that Pete never did when Jim and Jean were home; he wanted Pete to sing the "Noah" song to him.

When Jimmy was a baby, Pete would occasionally sing to him when the boy wasn't feeling well, but only while he was babysitting. It wasn't that Pete was embarrassed by his singing because he was, in fact, rather good at it. Pete had been a soloist in both the youth and adult choirs in church, before he became a lapsed Catholic.

There was almost nothing that Pete wouldn't do for the child who held his heart. He sang softly to avoid being heard, but as Jean reached to open the door and check on them, she heard something that made her freeze;

"A long time ago, when the earth was green…."


	18. Chapter 18

Jean was afraid to make any noise as she drew her hand back from the doorknob. Tears began to well up in her eyes as she listened to that full baritone sing her son a lullaby. It was a window into a side of Pete Malloy she never knew existed. Tough, demanding, hard, sarcastic, intimidating were all terms people had used to describe Pete, but this was….tender.

Jim had seen the "soft" side of Pete before Jean had; did he know about this? Somehow, Jean doubted that anyone they knew, save Jimmy, had ever heard his Godfather sing. Part of her wanted to stay there and listen at the door; another part told her that she was trespassing. It was the latter part that made her wipe away the tears before she went back to join Jim in the kitchen. She wouldn't tell Jim what she had overheard; a moment that "sacred" wasn't meant to be shared.

Ten minutes later, Pete, drawn by the smells of coffee and pie, came back to the kitchen. He assured his friends that Jimmy was finally asleep. Jean watched for any sign that Pete knew she had been outside the door, but he didn't mention it if he did. She was worried that Pete would stop singing to Jimmy if he knew that she overheard him. Pete stayed just long enough to down a mug of coffee and a piece of apple pie. When he stood up to leave, Jean did too. She took him into a hug and kissed his cheek, thanking him for taking care of Jimmy. That was somewhat unusual for Jean, but Pete took it anyway. It was much better than her goodbyes of late.

As luck would have it, Pete was long gone when the dog threw up Oreo pieces and carrots.

"James Reed! What have you been feeding the dog?" Only a deep sense of self-preservation kept Jim from stating the obvious. Jean could see as well as he did just what the dog had been eating. He watched Jean as she went to the counter and took out the package of Oreos. Once she opened them and saw the same four missing cookies that had been eaten yesterday. She peered over at her husband. Jim opted for silence, choosing not to show her where the cookie the dog threw up came from. Come to think of it, he didn't remember any of them dropping an Oreo. The evidence was clear that someone had though, but, where had the carrot pieces come from?

"I'm waiting." She stood in the middle of the kitchen, arms crossed over her chest. Jim didn't know what to say. He could easily blame the whole thing on Pete. After all, he was the one who had stolen the first cookies, but to do so might anger Jean and she was finally realizing that Judy's story was slanted against Pete. More than that, she had kissed him! Where did _that_ come from?

"Does it matter, really?" Jim's eyes were pleading with Jean to let it go. He took her into his arms and kissed her with enough passion behind I to distract her from the matter of the dog and the cookies.

Pete had gone back to his apartment to work on the training report he had yet to write. He had nine out of ten reports; he didn't think Ed's would be necessary anymore. Try as he might, he couldn't concentrate on the details in the reports on the probationers. His left eye was throbbing and each movement caused him considerable pain. Finally, he gave in and went to the drug store. He was climbing the stairs to go back to his apartment when he noticed something white sticking out from under the door. He couldn't believe what he saw; it was a file containing the training report he was missing. Ed had apparently stopped by while he was gone. He wondered if Ed really thought this would help him out of the trouble he was in.

Forty-five minutes and one pain pill later, Pete was hard at work. When necessary, he would call the training officers to discuss certain details or problems he found. Pete considered ignoring Ed's report on Fraser, but it wasn't in him to do half a job. It was after midnight when he finally went to bed.

At midnight, Jim was starting his shift. He didn't know Sergeant Gordan very well but this was his and Pete's regular watch. He wasn't thrilled to find out that Woods had been moved over to cover for Pete; he would have preferred an L car for tonight. He liked Woods. Jerry was an amiable guy but he talked more than Ed did and Jim couldn't answer most of his questions. They had all wanted to know where Pete was. It was more than answering about Pete's injuries. Even though the officers involved yesterday weren't supposed to talk about it, there was constant speculation about Pete's involvement and Ed's possible fate. Jim, who had been present at both incidents, was constantly forced into giving no answer answers.

A nagging feeling told Pete that he should be early to work today. He was getting very tired of these omens; couldn't God stop sending them? Better yet, could things calm down? It was 7 am and Pete was already by his locker changing into his uniform. He didn't look up at the sound of the locker room door opening. The odds were that it was someone on the tail end of the AM watch. Pete only saw the flash of a person as they went by his row of lockers, but it was enough. Mac was here.

The silence in the locker room had gone way beyond uncomfortable. Maybe it was petty of Pete to not greet Mac, but the sergeant had set the tone by ignoring him. Mac had to know as well as Pete did that there was a confrontation coming. He understood Mac's not wanting to give up some of his authority, but he felt that he needed that authority to do the CTO job properly. Clearly, the Captain had been on Pete's side; would he still be was the question. Pete wondered if Mac had already spoken to Captain Moore.

In the end, it was Mac who broke the silence. Pete had finished dressing and was heading for the door and the ever-present coffee in the breakroom when he heard Mac:

"Be in my office in ten minutes." Mac, one of Pete's closest friends, was being cold and impersonal. Would that friendship survived this clash of wills? Pete skipped the cup of coffee. This wasn't going to be a nice, friendly chat; certainly not the typical relaxed conversation one usually had over coffee. He was standing, going over a few messages left for him, when Mac entered the office and closed the door. Pete, who wasn't in the mood to placate the older man or defer to Mac's opinion, waited for MacDonald to start.

"I haven't spoken to the captain yet about you. The fact is that you had no right to assume authority over issues that are my call. It will go a lot easier if you admit your mistake." They stood at arm's length glaring at each other like two rams fighting over a flock of ewes.

"You're the one making a mistake; right now. Maybe you should talk to the captain before you go around condemning my actions." So far, both men were just barely keeping their tempers. If one of them didn't back down it could turn ugly fast.

"I don't care if you think you have the authority, you should have cleared it with me before you threatened Wells. " What MacDonald wasn't getting was that if Pete had been given the authority over determining who was fit to be a training officer, there would be no need to clear it with him.

"Why would I need to clear it with you and how was I supposed to do that? Ask Wells to wait while I stopped and called you on the phone?" Pete's temper was rising as fast as Mac's. Both were known for being stubborn to the extreme. Things were not going well.

"You have to clear it with me because I am the Sergeant! Or have you forgotten that fact? I out-rank you Malloy." If anyone were over hearing this argument, they wouldn't catch the line that MacDonald crossed.

"I know that Mac! I was there, remember?" Early in their partnership, Jim had asked Pete about some station scuttlebutt. Reed had been told that Pete, not Mac, was the odds on favorite to make sergeant one year, but that he didn't even try for it and Mac was promoted. Jim always thought there was more to the story than Pete's explanation that he wasn't ready for a desk job.

"How dare you bring that up? You made your choice." Mac, who had closed his hand into a fist, took a step closer to Pete.

"Yeah, I made my choice, but have I ever brought that time up? Cashed in on it? Do you really think I'm even talking about that now?" Pete would rather turn into stone than back away from Macdonald.

"Name me one instance where I didn't respect your rank or follow your orders." Not wanting to get off the street was behind his reasoning, but the fact that his friend was ready to, did play into Pete's decision. Mac, Pete, Val Moore and Captain Grant were the only four people who knew everything about Pete's choice to not take the sergeants' exam.

"You are doing it right now, Malloy. Arguing with me when you know I am right." Mac was showing no sign of being willing to give up the bone.

"You're wrong MacDonald. I was willing to wait and discuss this with the Captain. This little _chat_ was your idea, not mine." Both men were breathing heavy and getting louder by the second. It might have come to blows if Captain Moore hadn't opened the door.

Instantly, both men stepped away from each other. Neither one said a word, but the Captain knew both well enough to know he had walked in on an argument. He took a seat on the edge of the desk, facing both men. Moore knew their history together. In all that time, he had never seen them this upset with the other one. The Captain depended on these two men working well together. Would he be able to solve their argument and keep them both happy?

"Talk."


	19. Chapter 19

Neither Pete nor Mac seemed to be in a talkative mood. At the Captain's suggestion, they had moved further apart but continued to glare at each other. They reminded Moore of a picture he had once seen of two lurching pit bulls held back by a hand on their collar. The problem with being the referee in such a fight was the very real possibility of getting bit by one or both of the dogs. As yet, the captain didn't know what issue had caused the blow-up, but he was determined to find out.

"If neither one of you wishes to talk first, I shall do it." He knew both men were strong-willed and stubborn as a Texas mule. It made them two of the best officers he had ever worked with, but it made mediating a problem. He would have to exercise his best 'command' presence or he might lose one of them.

"Does this have anything to do with the hostage situation yesterday morning or is it something else?" Eeny, meeny, minee, mo. Which one should he force the first answer out of? "I want an answer _gentlemen_ and I want it now." Pete stood closer to him, so he turned his full glare on his former trainee.

"No Sir." If Moore had expected a speech from Pete, he was sorely disappointed. A questioning glance at Mac was returned with the same two word phrase. But Val Moore was a patient man.

"Alright, does this have anything to do with Pete's black eye? " It was the next logical question and it did result in more detail, but not much. Pete's "No Sir" had been followed by Mac's "indirectly, Sir". Pete shot a look at Mac that would have been insubordination if he had put it into words.

"We seem to have a difference of opinion, gentlemen. Would one of you care to explain this paradox?" This time, the captain focused his attention on MacDonald, whose answer had given the captain a place to start. Mac didn't seem inclined to expand on his earlier comment.

"Well?"

"It's not really about that, Sir." Again, he got an answer that told him nothing. Moore had come to the opinion that calling these two officers stubborn as mules was an insult to the animal. Mules will at least cooperate when a carrot is dangled in front of them.

"Then what did you mean by "indirectly"? Instead of answering, MacDonald turned to look at Malloy, gauging what, if anything, he should say. Moore stood and took a step towards Mac, but it was Pete who finally spoke up.

"I think he means that I wouldn't have been around for our dispute if I had stayed in the emergency room...Sir." Still, barely enough information to build on.

"You mean if you hadn't bullied your way out of there." Mac had taken a step closer to Pete, but he was stopped from getting any closer by the Captain.

The captain kept himself from asking details about that tidbit; he could find out about that later. He nodded for Pete to continue.

"What Mac said isn't true, Sir. I might have been put on light-duty status; however, I still would have been in the station when…" Pete left the remainder of that thought alone. If Mac wanted to explain the rest, it was fine with him.

"When Pete threatened Ed Wells." There, now it was out in the open. Mac leaned back against the wall, seemingly satisfied that he had put Pete on the spot. All that was required now was for the captain to set Malloy straight. Instead, Captain Moore moved to stand directly in from of him.

"From what I know about Ed Wells' conduct in recent weeks, I'm not at all surprised that Pete threatened him. I'm probably going to do the same thing myself later today." Mac's eyes darted between the captain's face and Pete's. He never thought that he would be put on the spot over this fight.

"By the way Pete, what did you threaten to do to Officer Wells? Please tell me you didn't threaten to geld the man, as tempting as that is." Those two were laughing, but Mac had obviously missed the joke. During his conversation with the captain on Friday, Pete had said that his Grandfather's method of dealing with arrogant and uncooperative stallions was to castrate them.

"I said that if he wasn't willing to do the job of training officer, he should quit and if he didn't, I might have to do it for him." Pete spoke with the confidence of someone who knew they could back up their threat. Now the ball was in Mac's court.

"He can't do that. It isn't his job to decide who gets to be a training officer!" While Pete was calming down, Mac seemed to be getting more agitated. "Plus, he did it in front of other officers on that shift." MacDonald was getting the feeling that he was trying to keep hold of a slippery fish with his bare hands. Surely the captain would see his side, eventually.

"I did try several times to get Ed to come in here so we could talk in private, but he refused. I didn't even mean to threaten to remove him, it just came out." A shrug of one shoulder and a grin came with the explanation.

"You are right Mac. Pete can't decide to make someone a training officer. That is a decision for me to make after the test results and weighing different officer's opinions." Now this was more like it; Mac smirked, sure that the captain would back him.

"He doesn't, however, have to work with anyone who is not qualified or who refuses to do the job properly. If he wants to remove someone, that is within his power." Captain Moore paused to let that sink in before continuing. "I understand that wasn't always the policy regarding training officers, but I have complete confidence in Pete. It was my belief that you did too."

"Don't I have some input in that decision? I am the one who assigns the men." Mac pointed his index finger at Pete." **Not him**." As Mac saw it, this was still a challenge to his position. He needed the captain to understand that. Pete almost batted away that pointing finger; his hand had jerked a little, but he held back. Hitting Mac would only make things worse.

"How many times has Pete spoken to you about Wells in the last two months?" Captain Moore asked, but he already knew the answer from previous conversations with both men. He needed to get MacDonald to understand that his input had been taken into account. When he got no answer to his question, Moore plowed on.

"Do you think he made this decision without considering your opinion? Yes, I gave him the power to remove a bad training officer, but only after both of you knew the problem and took actions to try and correct it. Ultimately, Pete is the one who has to work closely with the TOs. It should be his decision." It seemed to the captain, that MacDonald was starting to look at this logically, so, he turned to Pete.

"Pete, do you trust Mac with your life?" Malloy was caught off-guard. What did that have to do with anything?

"Eh. Why do….Yes. Of course I do." Pete stammered and turned toward his friend. Whatever anger he was holding on to faded as he met MacDonald's eyes. How had things gotten so heated?

"Bill, do you trust Pete with your life?" Unlike Pete, Mac expected the question and had his answer ready.

"Always." He let go of any lingering anger towards his longtime friend. The captain was right; Pete had never once challenged Mac's position as his superior officer. He had debated issues; questioned things, argued, but he had always deferred to Mac in the end. Pete was the one he went to for advice and a different perspective on things.

"Are we done now? Maybe you two don't remember, but I've got a much bigger mess to deal with and I don't intend to handle it by myself!" It felt good to laugh. Mac clapped Pete on the shoulder; offering him a cup of coffee. They consented to let the captain join them.

The three of them sat in the break room drinking coffee and catching up with each other. The first subject they discussed was the accident that Mac's wife and kids had been in. Were they okay? Did Mac need to postpone things here for a day? They were all sure that Wells wouldn't mind another day before facing them. It was jokingly suggested that they wait until a lieutenant was assigned to replace Lt. Rodgers, who had retired a few weeks ago. Four of them would definitely be more intimidating.

They had time to linger, talking about Moore's daughter's upcoming wedding and how his son was doing on his basketball team. The state of Pete's romantic life wasn't discussed. Instead Pete talked about Jimmy and how they managed to sneak the Oreos. Mac couldn't believe it.

"Wait. You taught my kids that trick, didn't you? Mary still blames me." Pete purposely avoided making eye contact with Mac and responded with a non-committal, "I'm sure I am not the only person to do that." Captain Moore burst out laughing; he knew what Pete was doing.

Mac was still trying to pin Pete down when Rusty, the older officer who worked the front desk came into the breakroom. As he helped himself to a mug of coffee they heard him muttering about people keeping him from getting his coffee. He might have been talking to himself, but the three occupants of the room heard him. Captain Moore turned to look at Rusty and asked if there was a problem.

"I need caffeine and no one will bring me a cup of coffee because you three are hogging the breakroom. You're scaring them…Leave." While they may have been too dense to notice that the room emptied when they got there and that no one had come in since, they could take a hint.

They refilled their mugs and headed towards the Captain's office. Already, there were two officers from the other night waiting in the outer office. Both were only witnesses, but they had that "deer in the headlight" look about them. It was understanding; no one wanted to speak against a fellow officer. Inside the office, Captain Moore took a seat at his desk.

"Today is not going to be easy, but before we start with them. I have one question." He paused for effect. "Exactly, who did you bully and why?"


	20. Chapter 20

Whatever Pete had been expecting, it wasn't that question. He had been hoping that the captain would have too much on his mind to remember that little detail. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mac discreetly shake his head. Mac hadn't made a report about that; probably because Pete had gone back to the hospital when Mac ordered him to.

"It was a resident at Central Receiving. Mac has the injury report. It's nothing, really." If they were to list all the issues that needed to be dealt with, bullying a resident doesn't seem that bad. Unlike Mac, Pete hadn't taken a seat in one of the chairs. There was a brief flash of pain as he leaned to half sit on a bookcase.

"It seems to have been enough to put you on light duty. Are you in pain now?" Pete would rather admit to teaching Billy and Elizabeth to steal cookies, than admit to being in pain. That's the trouble with complete honesty; it could get you in trouble.

"Not enough to worry about, Skipper." Moore noticed the carefully worded reply, but Pete had looked at him when he said it. For now, he would keep a close eye on his old trainee. It was time to broach a touchy subject.

"Are we all agreed that Ed Wells is not fit to be a training officer?" He desperately hoped that both men would not let their earlier fight get in the way now. He wasn't disappointed.

"We've given him more than enough time to shape up. Pete's right." Mac glanced over at Pete as he spoke. Pete nodded a thank you to Mac for acknowledging that the choice was his to make.

Although Internal Affairs would be involved in the whole mess, Captain Moore had the right to do his own investigation.

"I've read all the reports. It's time to start interviewing the witnesses. Pete…" Without waiting to be told to, Pete stood and crossed the office, opening the door. He pointed to one of the four officers waiting in the outer room.

"Come on in Brown. Take a seat." Pete went back to his perch on the bookcase. He wouldn't say anything during the interview; he was here to supply information when needed. All three of them mostly listened to Officer Brown. There was little to nothing said that wasn't in the report he wrote immediately after the incident with Eli. They did pin down Officer Brown on one question: Did Wells have his gun secured?

Three hours and another four witnesses later, Pete was about to call in the next officer, when the Captain called for a break. Moore asked Mac if he would take the mugs back to the breakroom and bring them back more coffee. Pete and Mac exchanged glance, both wondering the same thing. Why did the Captain want to speak to Pete alone? Once the door was closed, the captain leaned back in his chair, watching Pete closely.

"Do you feel as bad as you look?" Pete laughed and shook his head.

"I don't know, Skipper. I haven't looked in a mirror lately." It was an indirect answer, but it did confirm the captain's suspicions. Pete was in pain. This fact wasn't a surprise to Captain Moore; he had read the incident and injury reports. Three or four swift kicks to the stomach could cause a lot of bruising and soreness. The question was what to do about it. He needed Pete here.

"Have you taken anything for the pain?" This was a tricky question; even an officer on light duty was prohibited from taking narcotics while working. As he spoke, the captain opened the top drawer of his desk. He took out a bottle of aspirin and tossed it to Pete, who had yet to answer the question. "Take a few of those, they might help some. Sorry, I can't let you leave yet."

Pete was taking a few out of the bottle when there was a knock on the door. Both Pete and the captain laughed; it had to be Mac. He must have taken the laughter for permission to enter because he came in with three steaming cups of coffee. Pete used his to down three aspirins and the interviews began again. This time it was Walters.

Unlike the parade of mostly younger officers who had already been in to give their statements, Bill Walters wasn't bothered by the company. He had two years seniority on Pete and had known Mac and Moore since their days on patrol together. He was a highly respected officer and TO. The four of them spoke frankly about not only that night, but the way Ed Wells generally did his job. Pete confirmed it when Walters said that Wells frequently didn't secure his weapon. Malloy had spoken to Ed about it so many times that Ed developed the habit of checking his gun every time he saw Pete

After Walters left the discussion about Wells continued. Ed had gotten more cautious after being shot, but he still took too many shortcuts. He had gone through four partners in five years. Partners complained about his attitude, his work ethic and his charging into situations without thinking. He was seen as being only willing to do the absolute minimum in regards to the requirements of the job. It was the part of Wells that Pete understood the least.

None of this was news to the Captain either.

"Why was he even made a training officer?" Wells had been promoted after Lt. Moore left and before Captain Moore returned. It was a pointed question, but not one they could answer. Pete, who had already been a TO for a few years, hadn't been asked for his opinion and Mac's had been overruled.

Reed was due to be the next to give his statement, but he wasn't expected for half an hour yet. Pete had received a message from Allison. Sgt. Blau wanted him to stop by juvenile when he got found a spare minute. With the captain's permission, Pete took the long way around to her office. He didn't bother to knock, Juvenile was always open.

"I repeat what I said the other morning. You've got a lot of nerve Malloy. First a call at 4 am and now you keep me waiting." Clearly the teasing that was so a part of being a cop, wasn't lacking in Juvenile. Pete smiled, turning on the Irish charm.

"You have my sincerest apologies and if that's not enough, I'll buy you lunch." Pete took a seat on the corner of her desk, moving a pile of papers in the process.

"Dinner Pete, dinner." That was fair; he would treat her to dinner anytime. "Your message said that you had a few questions for me?"

"More than a few", she sighed. It was clear to Pete that Allison hadn't been getting much sleep either. "I have two main ones: Was Ed Wells' weapon secured and do you think Eli would really have shot anyone?"

"No." For the first time all day, there was a spark of teasing in Pete's eyes. Sparring with Ally was always fun and he was in the mood for some fun.

"You're still a pain in the behind, do you know that?" She reached over to playfully swat him with a file.

"Ouch. How can you say that about me? What did I ever do to you?" He reached up to rub his arm, pretending the swat had hurt him.

"You cannot tell me that hurt." She smiled at him as she whacked him again with the file. "Besides waking me up at 4 am on my day off?"

"Yes, beside that." He was now holding his hands out in a "who me?" gesture.

"Let's see. You stood me up how many times?" Allison was silently counting off the times on her fingers. She was on her third trip across her fingers when Pete cut her off.

"I protest. It is not standing you up if I called to cancel." Yeah, it was. Especially when he was calling to cancel after the time he was supposed to be there. He couldn't remember a time he cancelled for any reason other than work though.

"Humph. Are you going to answer my question or am I supposed to guess what you meant by 'no'?"

"Isn't 'no' the first word you ever learned? Are you saying that you forgot its' meaning?" From the look on her face, Pete was sure that she didn't think he remembered that. Her mother loved to tell tales of her childhood and Pete had heard quite a few.

"Okay, smart guy. Is 'no' the answer to both questions?" She had spread out the file before her on the desk. From his view on the other side of the desk, she had a lot of questions.

"Yes." He paused just long enough to get that look of exasperation she used to give him when he was being difficult. "Ed's weapon was not secured and I don't think Eli would have shot anyone. He was just a scared kid. Anyone who would actually shoot in that situation wouldn't have let me talk him down that easily." As he spoke, his voice took on a strange quality.

"What is it Pete?" She knew him well enough to notice a change in him; a faraway look in his eyes. "This kid really got to you, didn't he?"

"I understand him Ally; that fear. I might have done the same thing he did, if I had seen the chance the first time I was brought into jail." He was nervously tapping his fingers on his right thigh, almost as if he was playing a piano. Allison recognized that gesture; he often did it when he was troubled or worried.

Allison didn't know where to start. How do you answer that? Why had he shared that with her? As far as she knew, Pete was the altar boy, Eagle Scout type. Jail? She just stared at him, dumbfounded.

"I was thirteen." For a few minutes, Pete was lost in his memories and Allison was dying to shake him and ask him what he was talking about. The first time? Eventually, he smiled.

"I stole a cow…It was a prank. We, my two friends and I, were caught letting it into the gym of the rival high school." Pete chuckled, "We were real desperados."

Allison was laughing so hard that she started to make a choking noise. The image of her friend, who was considered one of the best officers in the division, being a cow stealer was simply too bizarre. He thought she was getting way too much enjoyment at his expense.

"You tell anyone that story, and I will deny it. Remember, I know quite a few embarrassing things about you." He did. It was times like this that Allison wanted to strangle her mother. This was such a good story and she couldn't share it.

"Can you help him? He was picked up for graffiti. I don't see how putting him in the Hall would serve any purpose. It was mostly Ed's fault." He wasn't sure why, but this one meant something to him. "Please Ally. I have to get back to the Captain's office, but if you need me, let me know. Thanks."

Pete was gone before Sgt. Blau realized that he had left without explaining what he meant by "first time". She wouldn't forget that slip he made. There would be plenty of time to find out what else he was arrested for.

By the time Pete got back to the Captain's office, Jim was already in there giving his statement. Reed hadn't been there for the start of the incident so his interview was short. Malloy then briefed them on the progress of the Eli part of all of this.

"Sgt. Blau is going to argue for leniency for Eli. The initial offense was a misdemeanor; it was mischief. If Ed had followed proper procedures, none of the rest would have happened. He seems to be a good kid who panicked. He never wanted to hurt anyone." There was some discussion about Juvenile's decision, but Pete swayed them to agree with going easy on the kid.

Pete couldn't wait for all of this mess was sorted out; he was in pain and wanted to go home. He was in luck. Captain Moore informed them that I IAD would be busy all day with Wells, so they could leave. Jim wrangled his way into coming over to Pete's house to watch the Dodger game on television. Actually, Pete did want the company, but he conned Jim into stopping for a pizza, ice cream and some beers. This was accomplished mainly because Jean's mother and aunt were visiting his wife.

He had one more thing to do before he could leave. Walters was still in the locker room, working out. Other than that, they were alone; which was the way Pete wanted it. Bill's probationer had only one month left on his probationary years. He could easily be passed off. Pete spoke to Walters frankly. This would be harder than dealing with a brand new rookie; he had to be untaught whatever bad habits he picked up from riding with Wells. Walters agreed to the change and also agreed to not say anything to anyone about the switch until it was officially made.

Pete changed out of his uniform, tossing it into the dry cleaning bin. He hated to clean regular laundry, preferring to pay someone else to do it. Uniforms were way beyond Pete's ability to clean and press properly. They were too much trouble. The drive home was relaxing; the pressures of the day were gone. At least until he pulled into the apartment parking lot.

Wells was sitting on the stairs to his apartment. He did not look happy.


	21. Chapter 21

Pete had pulled into his usual parking space, but he had not yet turned off the car. He seriously considered pulling back out and leaving. He wasn't supposed to be talking to Ed; a fact that Ed knew as well as Pete. Technically, they could talk about Ed's status as a training officer. That was an entirely different matter than the incident in the station hallway. Pete had lost any sense of peace he got from the drive home. Suddenly, he had a headache to go with the pain in his stomach and Ed Wells was sitting between Pete and his medicine.

With a sigh, Pete turned off the car and removed the key from the ignition. He was about to put the key ring In his pocket, when something caught the light and reflected it back at him. It was the medal of St. Michael, the patron saint of police officers. Pete wasn't the type to put faith in medals and such, but his mother had given it to him when he graduated from the Academy. Instead of wearing it on a chain around his neck, he kept it on his keyring. He spared a glance heavenward as he got out of his car. "Hey Mike? Can you distract God for me?" Whether he was asking help in getting God to find someone else to toy with or asking St. Michael to distract God so he didn't see what Pete might do, was open to interpretation.

Ed stood as Pete walked slowly towards the staircase. All Pete wanted was to go inside, take some pain medication and wait for Jim to bring the pizza. He kept his focus on the stairs; deliberately not looking at Ed. As he passed Wells, he spoke softly, "Go home Ed." Wells reached out and gave a small tug on Pete's shoulder. It was enough to force Pete to look at him.

"No. We're going to talk about it _now_." The emphasis on "now" showed Pete how desperate Ed was; it also rubbed Pete the wrong way. The last thing Pete wanted was for this to turn into something ugly.

"Please Ed. Go home." Pete was halfway up the small staircase, when Ed rushed past him. Ed was blocking Pete from getting to his apartment. Once more, Pete cast a less than respectable prayer to St. Michael, asking for patience; it was a commodity that Pete had very little of.

"You're the key to all of this trouble. Why couldn't you do your job and stop bothering me about mine?" Ed wasn't well known for his logic.

"At the risk of starting an argument that I am not in the mood for, let me point something out to you. It is my job to chase after you when you aren't doing your job properly. Now, _Go Home_." Pete brushed past Ed. He was rapidly losing what little patience he had.

Unfortunately, Ed seemed intent on starting a fight instead of leaving. He grabbed Pete's left bicep and jerked it back, knocking him off balance. It was only by luck that Pete was able to grab the railing and keep himself from falling down the stairs. Pete righted himself up and he stood, fists clenched, glaring down at Ed.

"Go Home Now! We aren't on duty nor are we in uniform. Push me, and I will knock you clear to the moon and back. Understand?" Standing as close as they were, the difference in height seemed even larger than the four inches or so that separated them in size.

"Back off Malloy." It was obvious that Ed wasn't in control of his emotions, anger included. He reached up, put his hands on Pete's chest and pushed him backward. Malloy took a step back to right himself as Ed swung a fist at Pete's jaw. Using his left arm to block the fist, Pete easily fended off the attack. He was beginning to think that Ed had been drinking.

"I don't want to hit you Ed. Us fighting isn't going to solve anything." Pete moved up to the next to the last step to the landing outside his apartment, distancing himself from Wells. It took all the self-control he had to keep from belting Ed. Oh, how he wanted to.

"You're trying to get me fired. You act all high and mighty, but you won't hesitate to stab one of us in the back. Come on Malloy, fight me fairly." Pete shook his head and turned to take the last step onto the landing. If there was one thing he definitely shouldn't do, it was hitting Wells.

Pete was halfway to his door when Ed lunged at his back, slamming him into the door. He hit his head on the door frame and the door knob connected with his already sore stomach. Pete righted himself and did the only thing he could do; he rammed his right fist into Ed's soft belly.

Wells doubled over and fell to his knees.

"Stay down. You're in enough trouble already. Do you really want to risk one of my neighbors reporting this?" Pete reached up to check his forehead; there was blood on his fingers. How was he going to explain that? Pete didn't want anyone to find out about this, but the blood was evidence that he was hit. There wasn't, however, a mark on Wells. A parish priest Pete knew while growing up had once told him; "Always hit them in the soft parts. That way, you don't leave any marks or break your hand." It wasn't the holiest thing to tell a ten year old, but it was good advice.

Ed was still on his knees, gasping for breath, when Jim showed up with the pizza. Reed's attention went from Ed to Pete. He saw the trickle of blood on his partner's forehead and pretty much figured out what had happened. Pete would never start a fight with another officer, besides; Ed's presence here was proof that he instigated the confrontation.

"Are you okay, Partner?" He noticed that Pete was breathing heavy, but he seemed more angry than winded. Pete nodded then he took a step towards Ed, offering him a hand getting up. That move surprised both Jim and Ed, but Pete wanted this over.

"I don't need your help." Ed was slowly getting to his feet by himself. Neither Jim nor Pete were sure what Wells would do. The partners struck identical poses, bracing themselves in case Ed tried to attack Pete again.

"My dinner is here. Go home Ed." Pete had noticed a few neighbors watching what was happening. The best thing to do was to get Ed away from here before a black and white showed up. "Leave. Attacking me isn't going to change things."

"You started it. You can stop it. Keep pushing and I'll lose my job." Ed was definitely not thinking straight. He had clenched his fists as he moved closer to Pete. Reed instantly moved to intervene if Ed tried anything.

"Even if I wanted to, I couldn't stop what's going to happen. If you lose your job it will be because you let that kid get your gun. Don't blame me for that." Pete stooped down to pick up his key ring; he knew that Jim would protect him if Ed tried anything. He did hope that Jim's help wasn't necessary; he didn't want the pizza dropped. Pete unlocked the door and went into his apartment. Reed followed, practically slamming the door in Ed's face. The click of the dead-bolt was lost amid Ed's pounding on the door.

Pete took a seat as soon as he could, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. As Jim set the pizza down on the coffee table he saw something that worried him; Pete wasn't making any attempt to hide the pain that he was in. Jim left the unopened pizza and disappeared down the hall. He returned with a wet washcloth and the pain medication he found on a dresser in the bedroom. Pete took the wet washcloth when it was shoved in his hand. Eyes still closed, he held the cloth to his temple and muttered a thank you. Jim went and got two plates and one bottle of soda.

"Hold out your hands." Jim read the label on the bottle, electing to give Pete two pills instead of the one he knew his friend would probably take.

"Why?" Pete asked, even as he held out his hands. He opened his eyes, expecting to be holding a beer in one hand; he was pretty sure he knew what Jim had put into his other open hand. Pete downed both pills with the soda Jim had provided. He grumbled, but that was because Jim hadn't given him a beer.

"Soda?" Jim moved the beers out of Pete's reach. "Damn. Hand me a piece of pizza. I can have that, can't I, Mother?" He took the piece of pizza and a folded paper towel from Jim's hand. A folded paper towel? Pete wondered if Jim was born domesticated or if that was Jean's doing.

They ate and watched the game without talking. Jim had a whole pile of questions, but he wanted to give the pain medication time to work before he pestered Pete. During a commercial, Jim asked the question he wanted an answer to most of all.

"How many times did you hit him?" At least, Jim was laughing. "He looked like a fish gasping for air."

"Once." Pete laughed and shrugged his shoulders. One punch was all he needed. In order to get clearance to return to work after he was shot, Pete spent a lot of time swimming to build up his lung capacity and strengthen his chest muscles. This exercise had resulted in an increase in total upper body strength.

For the next forty-five minutes, Pete, in between innings, told Jim all that happened with Ed. Three pieces of pizza and two Tylenol with Codeines later, Pete was asleep. Jim saw no reason to leave; Jean wouldn't let him ignore her family in order to watch the end of the game. He was finishing up his fifth piece of pizza when the phone rang. He rushed to answer it before the ringing woke Pete up.

The caller was a woman who wouldn't leave her name. She said she would call Pete tomorrow. Curious, Jim didn't recognize the voice.

Pete woke up during the bottom of the seventh inning. The Dodgers were barely holding onto a one run lead. The game was getting good when Jim cleared his throat. Pete shook his head, knowing full well what that sound meant.

"Can't it wait until the end of the inning? I already missed a lot of the game." Instead of asking Jim what he wanted to talk about, Pete sent him to get them both some ice cream. Who knows? Ice cream has been known to distract his partner before.

"Pete?" Jim set the bowl of ice cream in front of his friend. "Maybe you should call Mac."

"Why? I'm sure he's already watching the game." He knew what Jim wanted him to call Mac about; right now, he didn't want to deal with it. Regulations required him to report what happened earlier.

"Keep my ice cream cold." Pete went to use the phone on the kitchen wall. He finished dialing and held onto the hope that Mac wouldn't be there. Two rings later…

"Hello. MacDonald residence."


	22. Chapter 22

Maybe St. Michael was on Pete's side tonight; Mac wasn't home. Pete left a message with Mary to have Mac call him and went back to the ball game and his still cold ice cream.

The game went into extra innings. It was the bottom of the twelfth inning. The Dodgers were down two runs, but there were two men on base and one out. Steve Garvey hit a sacrifice fly to right. Jimmy Wynn was sliding into home when there was a knock on the door. Pete held up a hand to stop Jim from answering it; he was sure that Ed had returned. The knocking continued. At least there was a commercial on.

"Pete, open up! I know you're in there." It wasn't Ed. Jim got up to answer the door to let Mac in. Pete decided that St. Michael was a fickle patron saint.

"Why didn't you answer the door?" Mac seemed a bit perturbed. It didn't help his mood much when Pete shushed him; the commercial was over. Bill Buckner hit a double to left, advancing Manny Mota to third. Two on, two out, down one run and Mac reached over to shut off the television.

"You couldn't wait for one more batter?" Pete didn't even know why Mac was there. He told Mary to have her husband _call_ him; not come over. He was tempted to turn the television back, but even medicated, Pete knew better than to push things. "What's up Mac?"

"When were you going to tell me that there was a radio call to these apartments?" That explained Mac's mood. Apparently whoever responded to the call didn't see what had happened and didn't find a reason to knock on his door.

"There was? I didn't see one. Did you?" In Mac's opinion, his friend was not taking things seriously. Pete, who usually didn't take anything stronger than aspirin, had a tendency to be flippant when on stronger meds.

"I didn't ask you if you saw one, did I?" Mac was hovering. Not a good sign.

"Yes, you did. Didn't you hear him ask that Partner?" Pete turned to appeal to Jim for confirmation. Reed, however, was cringing at Pete's response. He was about to say something when Mac noticed the cut above Pete's right eye. "What happened to your head?"

"I'm pretty sure I hit it on the door frame." Pete wasn't really trying to be difficult. However, even in his medicated mind, he did resent having Mac in there asking questions. That wasn't it, exactly. Mainly he resented the fact that Ed was causing him more grief. When was it going to stop?

"Let me guess. You tripped over your own feet, right?" It seems that Pete wasn't the only one in the mood to be difficult. Pete was thinking clear enough to wonder how Mac found out about a 415 to his apartment complex. The responding officers would have come to his place if his apartment number was included in the call.

"Of course I did." He had, after Ed pushed him into the door. He probably should have added that part.

Jim hadn't said anything yet, but he would have to. He had been there for their argument the other day. This could easily get out of hand.

"Pete. Tell him you already tried to call to let him know what happened." Jim wasn't looking at Mac as he spoke. He was giving Pete a look that said "Don't be stupid". Pete might be pig-headed at times, but he got the message.

"I called Mary a while ago and left a message for you. I didn't know a squad car was outside." Pete started using two fingers to rub his right temple.

"When?" Mac, who had yet to sit down, stepped closer to Pete. "What time did you call?"

"I'm not sure." He paused to take a sip of soda and Mac almost growled. So Pete added, "It was somewhere around the eighth inning, I think." Pete didn't even know what time it was now. He had lost a few hours to sleep and the fog of codeine.

"That game just ended and the 415 call went out almost three hours ago. Are you saying that you forgot to call me for hours?" MacDonald didn't seem to be in the mood to listen. Had he been yelled at about this?

"Sergeant?" Jim really needed to stop this before it got worse. He pointed at Pete. "He's not trying to be difficult; He's loopy from his pain meds." Pete took offense at the term "loopy" arguing that he was only a little "Farblonschet". Neither Mac nor Jim wanted to try to figure that one out.

"We really didn't know about any 415 complaint. I was more concerned with stopping the bleeding above his eyebrow and making him take some pain medication. Also, the pizza was hot. He was going to call you right after we ate." Jim was going to continue explaining when Pete broke into the conversation.

"It's his fault. I fell asleep." Pete glared at both of them; they were laughing.

"You always fall asleep when you mix pizza and codeine." Mac laughed and took a seat across from Pete, but spoke to Jim. "If we give him coffee all we'll have is a wide awake loon. Did you see anything?"

They decided to try it anyway. MacDonald kept Pete company while Jim fixed a pot of coffee. Reed could repeat what Pete had told him happened before he got there, but the sergeant needed to get Malloy's version from him. It took another hour and two cups of strong coffee before Pete could keep his mind on the details. Mac took notes, asking questions when necessary, to get the facts straight. Pete admitted to hitting Ed, stating that he didn't have much choice. Ed was swinging a fist at him when Pete hit him in self-defense. After Jim gave his statement, Pete supplied the names of two neighbors who had seen at least part of what happened.

Pete ended the story with the assertion that he did not want to file charges against Wells. He didn't see any point to it. Ed was in enough trouble, without adding this. MacDonald didn't quite agree with Pete, but this was his call; unless Ed made an issue of things. Either way, they would have to fill in Captain Moore in the morning.

Pete was switching channels trying to find out who won the game, when he noticed Mac and Jim talking quietly in the kitchen. They kept looking back and forth at him. That was most assuredly a bad omen. When they finished, Mac brought Pete a new bottle of soda and two more pain pills. He was refusing the pain meds when he heard Jim talking on the phone with Jean.

"Oh No. I do not need a babysitter and I'm not taking any more medication." Pete stood up too fast and had to grab the arm of the chair to steady him. Both Mac and Jim saw the flash of pain on Pete's face. Mac put a hand on Pete's shoulder.

"Sit down Pete. I think someone should be here in case Ed comes back. If you don't want Jim to stay here, I'll have a unit assigned to sit outside overnight." Pete jerked away from Mac's touch. He was starting to get agitated.

"There is no reason to do that. Do you think I'm stupid enough to open the door if Wells shows up again?" He pointed at the door. "It's a metal door and a dead bolt. Ed can kick it until he breaks his foot, it won't open. Go home Jim."

Not only didn't Jim leave, he came and stood next to Mac, like a plainclothes version of the "Blue Wall". Pete had two options: dart sideways along the coffee table or sit down. He didn't feel like darting anywhere; his head and stomach hurt. Ed knocking him into the door had acerbated his injuries. So, he sat back down.

"We need a witness in case he does come back. Maybe he won't get in, but he can raise a fuss if he wants to." MacDonald paused to let Pete consider that. "What if he is out there when you leave to go to work tomorrow?"

Pete gave into the idea of Jim staying overnight. He did argue against taking any more of the codeine, but not too much. The fact that he needed to get enough sleep so that he wouldn't be tired when they took the statements from Fraser and Wells, made sense to him. Mac would have someone talk to the neighbors in the morning.

Things were quiet overnight. It had been agreed last night that Jim would walk Pete to his car before going home. If they were worried about Ed being around, they shouldn't have been; a squad car was parked by the stairs. They left when Jim held up four fingers.

There was a very large sigh when Pete bent down to touch the damaged quarter panel. He would have to deal with that today, too. Pete did have collision insurance on the car, but there was a large deductible to deal with. He had no intention of paying that himself.

The locker room was mostly empty when Pete got there. The only other person there was Mark Jackson, who was changing out of a wet uniform. He muttered something about having to buy a new shirt; uniform parts weren't cheap. Pete looked over at him and chuckled.

"Be glad it's only one shirt. My last shift I ruined two shirts and a pair of pants."

Jackson, a recent transfer, was a three year veteran. Since coming over, he had kept a respectable distance between him and the "Senior Lead". The scuttlebutt over the last few days didn't make him any more willing to be around Pete and he left as soon as possible. Pete grinned and shook his head. Captain Moore had taught Pete a long time ago, that a little respectable fear was a necessary component of a supervisor's make-up.

Pete stopped at the watch commander's office to check in with Mac. Because of Pete's encounter with Ed, they had moved up the appointment with the Captain to eight. On the way to the office, Mac shared with Pete the position Internal Affairs had taken. They determined that there was evidence of misconduct, violating regulations and endangering others, but there was nothing requiring criminal charges. That kicked the ball squarely in the Captain's ball park. Mac didn't have to point out that the Captain's decision would be influenced by their input

When they reached the Captain's outer office, his secretary asked them to wait outside. The hairs on the back of Pete's neck rose when Gladys stated the reason for the delay:

Ed Wells was speaking to the Captain.


	23. Chapter 23

Gladys watched as both officers paced back and forth in front of her desk. The scene in the outer office would have been funny if it wasn't caused by the knowledge that Wells was in the Captain's office. He wasn't due to make his statement to the Captain until 11 am. It was definitely a bad omen, but the question was: who was the omen for?

"I suppose it's too much to expect that Ed is in there resigning." Pete asked Mac when he came along side; the two had been pacing in opposite directions. MacDonald shook his head and kept walking away from Pete. The office wasn't very big, so it only took five seconds for them to reach a wall, turn around and come back together.

"You know as well as I do what Ed is doing in there." It seemed to Gladys as if both officers were bracing themselves for more trouble. She didn't know all that had happened, but knew enough to know that Ed was most likely in there pleading his case.

"I can hope, can't I?" The question might have been seen as optimistic, but Pete's tone of voice was more one of resignation. He knew the odds that Wells would "man-up" and take responsibility for his actions were the same odds that the Earth would stop suddenly and start rotating the other way.

Pete and Mac were on opposite sides of the office when the door opened and Sgt. Jerry Miller entered. Malloy was somewhat confused at Miller's appearance, but Mac seemed to have expected it. Miller asked both men to take a seat so they could talk before entering the Captain's office.

"I spoke to both of the women whose names you gave me. I also had a conversation with Pete's landlady, a Mrs. O'Brian." Mac blanched at the name, causing Pete to laugh. MacDonald and Mrs. O'Brian had a brief, but memorable history together. Still, he wondered why Miller would be talking to his neighbors so soon after the incident. They hadn't reported it yet.

"You were right Mac; all three women told me similar versions of what happened last night. They agree that Ed confronted Pete and two said they would have hit Wells a lot sooner than Pete did. I think he's in the clear." Pete thanked Miller and MacDonald for their help. Their intervention before the meeting with the captain should make things easier. It was nice to know that he had backup for his story, yet, he couldn't relax. Who knows what Ed was saying and did he have someone willing to back up his side of things?

All four looked up as the door to the inner office opened. Ed Wells strutted out and smirked at Pete. This was not good. No one spoke while they waited for clearance to talk to Captain Moore.

Finally, Gladys sent them in. At the Captain's direction Mac and Pete took the seats in front of the desk. He was about to ask about Miller's attendance at the meeting when MacDonald stated that he asked Miller to come. The Captain watched all three men for a minute before he spoke.

"Pete, did you hit Ed Wells yesterday?" The bluntness of the question caught Pete off-guard. Moore was eye to eye with Pete, waiting for the answer.

"Yes, I didn't have a choice." He paused a moment before continuing. "Did Ed tell you that I hit him in self-defense or is what happened yesterday all my fault?" Pete had been dealing with Wells for years; he knew better than the Captain did about how twisted Ed's perspective on things could be.

"He says that he waited outside your apartment to try and reason with you. That you told him to leave and hit him when he refused to go." Pete sat there speechless; this went way past Wells' habit of exaggerating the facts. He was out and out lying.

"Captain?" MacDonald spoke up while Pete let that accusation sink in. He wanted to put a stop to this lie before things got worse. "Pete told me what happened last night. I called Miller in to speak to Pete's neighbors, in case we could find a witness. Someone had called in a 415, but the squad that responded didn't find any problems."

Captain Moore nodded. He would listen to Sgt. Miller before asking any more questions. While he listened to Miller's report, the Captain kept looking between a piece of paper on his desk and Pete. Malloy kept his attention on the Captain; if he wanted to judge Pete's response to the story, let him. The story ended with Ed pounding on the door until a neighbor yelled at him. MacDonald and Miller handed in their reports and the statement Pete had signed the night before. No one spoke as the Captain read all the statements. The Captain's attention was now fully on one piece of paper.

"Wells' statement, besides the part about Pete telling him to leave, presents a very different picture of what occurred last night." Moore glanced up at Pete's forehead. "He says that he never laid a hand on you, but that cut over your eye suggests that he did. Ordinarily, this would be a question of one officer's word over another."

Captain Moore leaned forward, elbows on his desk, staring at Pete as he asked.

"Why did you hit him? Shouldn't you have tried to subdue him first?" Again, Captain Moore was being blunter than was his usual style.

"Normally, I would have, Sir. As you know, I am already on light duty from the bar fight Friday night. When Ed slammed me from behind, I hit my head on the door frame and caught a door knob in the stomach. I was in too much pain to try and wrestle with him and he was still swinging a fist at me. So, I hit him…once."

Pete knew the regulations as well as Moore did. It would be up to the Captain to decide if he had a valid reason to hit another officer. Moore didn't speak for a few minutes; he seemed to be weighing the evidence and the way in which it was presented. When Ed made the accusation against Pete, he couldn't sit still. He got up and paced as he told Moore about Pete hitting him. On the other hand, Pete sat in front of him, not fidgeting and keeping eye contact the whole time he spoke.

"Pete, do you want to press charges for assault?" Apparently, the captain had made up his mind but Pete couldn't stop worrying until he knew for sure.

"No Sir. I would just as soon forget it happened, if that's okay with you." Pete didn't see the point in pressing possible criminal charges against Wells. It wouldn't accomplish anything.

"Alright, if you change your mind let me know before tomorrow morning." Pete assured the captain that he wouldn't be bringing charges. While the Captain gathered up all the papers, Pete got up and walked over to Sgt. Miller. He wanted to thank him again for taking care of the "Ed" problem for him. Jerry patted Pete on the shoulder and told him to try to relax. Pete couldn't, not yet.

When Miller opened the door to leave, a very nervous young man in the outer office jumped up. Pete felt sorry for the kid, but he would have to wait a few more minutes. Captain Moore had some questions about Ed's behavior since the incident with Eli.

"How unstable is Wells I'm worried that he might do something worse than what he did last night." Pete and Mac looked at each other. Neither one was sure how to answer that question. Ed's actions the night before were abnormal even for him. Still, Moore wasn't asking a rhetorical question

"There's no way to know. I didn't think he would go so far as to attack Pete." MacDonald's answer was the same one that Pete would have given. Ed was under so much pressure and they understood that, but it didn't excuse what he'd done since yesterday afternoon. Whether they liked it or not, Wells seems to have decided that all his problems were Pete's fault.

"I don't want Pete alone until this business is over." Moore, at least, had decided that Ed was a danger to Pete. Mac agreed with the Captain, but Pete wanted no part of it; arguing that he was perfectly capable of protecting himself. It was two against one, however, Pete could out stubborn both of them. The problem was that Captain Moore couldn't order Pete to have protection when there was no concrete threat. The three of them would still be arguing if it weren't time for Fraser to make his statement. The issue was tabled, for now.

When Pete went to let Fraser in, he saw Jim sitting in there waiting with the rookie. He signaled to Pete that he needed to speak to him. Pete excused himself and went out to see what Jim wanted.

"I forgot to tell you something. Last night, I answered your phone while you were sleeping. It was a woman. I didn't recognize the voice and she wouldn't leave a message." Pete wasn't sure why Jim was bothering to tell him about a no message, phone call. It's not like he hasn't been getting weird calls lately.

"Thanks, Jim. No offense, but why aren't you home sleeping?" Jim, who worked the AM shift, had left over two hours ago.

"I did go home. Jean made me breakfast and while we were eating a woman called our house looking for you. I recognized the voice. It was the same woman who called your apartment last night." Now that set off alarms bells. People, outside of those they worked with, didn't usually call Jim's house looking for him. Jim added that the woman wouldn't leave her name or number today either. He thanked Jim and went back into the office.

Moore and MacDonald were already discussing the rookie's statement with him, so Pete went to lean against the bookcase. He didn't tell Jim, but he was more bothered by the phone calls than he was about Ed. Who would be trying to track him down? Why not leave a name or number so he could call them back? Fraser's statement was almost identical to the one he had given the night it happened. Pete was only half listening; he wasn't supposed to be asking questions.

"Pete? Ahem. Pete? Are you with us?" Mac had apparently been speaking to Pete.

"Sorry, Mac. I got distracted by something Jim told me. What did you want to know?" Pete was trying to shake off the bad feelings the message from Jim caused. He knew without them asking that he would have to tell them about the phone calls.

"When you rode with Officer Fraser, did you have to tell him to secure his weapon?" Pete could see it in the kid's eyes; he didn't want Pete to say that he had warned the rookie. Nor did he want Pete to tell them the reason he didn't have his holster buckled.

"Yes. I had to tell him twice. I thought the first time was a mistake, but after I saw his weapon unsecured again, I asked him why." Pete paused; he didn't want to add to the Wells problem. "He said that Wells told him not to buckle up his weapon." He didn't feel the need, right then, to share the fact that he had to keep telling Ed to secure his weapon.

"Did he tell you why?" This time the question came from Captain Moore. Pete couldn't shake the feeling that he was setting Ed up for an execution. He was torn between his duty and some sympathy he felt towards the rookie. It wasn't much of a choice, really. Pete wouldn't cover for him or Ed.

"He said that Wells told him to keep his holster unbuckled because securing it would slow him down when he needed to pull his weapon." That seemed to be the only question they had for Pete. Ten minutes later, Fraser was told that he would be notified of the Captain's decision in two days. Part of Pete wanted to reassure the young cop that he wouldn't lose his job over this; the other part thought it wouldn't hurt to have Fraser sweating it out.

After Fraser left, Pete filled his superior officers in on the strange phone calls he had received from the unknown woman. He shouldn't have done that. The debate over whether or not Pete needed a body guard had to tabled once again. Gladys buzzed the Captain with a message.

Ed was waiting.


	24. Chapter 24

Ed seemed startled when Pete came out of the Captain's office. Not that he should have been; Ed knew that Pete was sitting in on the meetings with the other officers. Maybe it was the fact that Pete was obviously not staying that unsettled him. Ed had been gearing himself for a confrontation with Pete. Wells' felt uneasy when Pete flashed him a grin and nodded.

"You can go in now Ed. They're waiting for you." Malloy was, in Wells' opinion, in too much of a jolly mood. Pete had to know what Ed had said to the Captain that morning, so why was he grinning? Ed's plan had been to try and have the meeting centered on Pete's threat and the incident at Malloy's apartment and less on what happened the other night. In his mind, Pete was the problem.

Ed marched into the office, intent on making them see it his way. At the Captain's direction, Ed took a seat directly in front of the desk. It was where Pete sat earlier. He instantly started in on his version of the facts. It was Pete's threatening him that was behind the later trouble with Eli. As Ed told it, he was distracted by the prospect of being removed as a training officer. That so upset him that he agreed to Fraser's suggestion that they not handcuff the kid. It was a mistake; one caused by Pete. Surely they could understand.

The Captain had let Ed have his say without interruption. To his credit, Capt. Moore kept a straight face throughout the telling. Behind Ed, Mac made no attempt to hide his shock. Did Ed really believe this? If so, he really should be fired. For the moment, Mac kept his silence. This was the Captain's issue to deal with. However, MacDonald was certain that the Captain wasn't buying any of this.

"Do you mean to tell me that what Pete said caused your bad judgement and carelessness?" If Ed knew anything about the Captain, he would know that Moore expected his officers to take responsibility for their own actions.

"Yes Sir. It isn't the first time he's stabbed me in the back. I'm a great training officer." Ed pushed right on, almost as if he didn't hear the words "bad Judgement" and "carelessness". He had to fix the blame on Pete and Fraser. "Malloy lords his position over everyone. He abuses his power. Fraser is terrified of him and he's not the only one." Mac moved to respond to that, but stopped when Moore shook his head.

"If a probationer isn't afraid of Malloy, then Pete isn't doing his job properly. I'll be sure to congratulate him on his thoroughness. Now, stop trying to blame everyone but yourself. Let's start with your practice of keeping your weapon unsecured."

"Did Malloy tell you that? I forgot to buckle my gun in, once. It's not a crime."

The rest of the meeting went along on a similar vein; everything was someone else's fault. "Fraser should have been watching the kid." "Pete started the argument in the hall." When confronted with the statements of the officers who were held at gunpoint, Ed said they lied because those officers were afraid to contradict Pete. He argued that same thing applied to the women who spoke to Miller that morning.

After an hour of this, the Captain stopped the meeting with _Saint Ed_. He had hoped that at some point Ed would realize that he couldn't lie his way out of this trouble. Moore had been a police officer long enough to understand that mistakes, even ones caused by a failure to meet the department's standards, did happen. Anyone can make a mistake; it was what they did after that mattered.

Ed was sent home with strict instructions to not discuss what was said at this meeting with anyone. He was also forbidden to repeat the claims he falsely made against Malloy; especially the accusations he lodged that morning about the confrontation at Pete's apartment complex. Neither Moore nor MacDonald believed Ed when he agreed to keep quiet.

When Pete left the office, his first stop was the breakroom. He was going to need a lot of caffeine to get through the day. Even on light duty, he had things that needed handling. The department was changing and some watch commander duties were being shifted onto the Senior Lead Officers. In addition to routine patrol, Pete was now responsible for coordinating meetings between patrol officers and community organizations. Any problems the patrol officers were having on the street were processed through him. He wondered how long it would be before the department pulled the SLO from routine patrol.

Reed was in the breakroom when Pete got there. The first question that came to mind was why? Jim, who wasn't scheduled to work until midnight, was half asleep, His head resting on the desk, cushioned by his arms. Pete put a hand on his partner's shoulder, gently shaking it.

"Wake up. It's time to go home." Reed briefly looked up at Pete before shaking his head and laying it down again. His response that he was too tired to drive prompted Pete to offer him a ride home. Jim was arguing with Pete when Daley, one of the officers working the front desk came in looking for Pete. There was a man named Henderson in the lobby asking to speak to him. Malloy was making his way to the lobby when the suddenly awake Reed took up a position on Pete's right side

Mr. Henderson turned out to be a man in his late fifties, with graying hair and a nicely tailored pin-stripe suit. As Pete introduced himself, Jim moved a few feet away from the older officer. Unless Pete was mistaken, Jim was taking up a defensive position. Why? Mr. Henderson seemed perfectly harmless.

Pete didn't recognize the name until Mr. Henderson that he wanted to speak to Pete about his youngest daughter, Cindy. That name registered. Pete hadn't had time yet to call his insurance company, but he saw no reason to not talk to the man. At Mr. Henderson's request Pete took him to see the damage his daughter did to Pete's car. Once more, Jim took up a position on Pete's right.

"I'm sure you realize that I did not give Cindy permission to drive my car. She would hit a policeman's car, no offense." So far, Pete hadn't taken any. Mr. Henderson continued on.

"My daughter said that you were at fault. That you got in the way." Apparently Pete's facial response was enough to make Mr. Henderson to doubt his daughter's veracity.

"Cindy sometimes has a problem telling the truth when she gets into trouble." Pete thought Ed Wells and Cindy needed to meet.

While he explained to Cindy's father what had actually happened, Pete sent Jim for a copy of the accident report. For some reason, his partner hesitated before leaving Pete alone with Cindy's dad. Jim's behavior was beginning to give Pete the creeps.

"Cindy will work off this debt. Believe me, Officer Malloy; I've had it with her." Mr. Henderson had agreed to pay for Pete's deductible. "Maybe having to get a real job will teach her a lesson, I hope." Mr. Henderson shook Pete's hand before leaving.

As Pete walked back to the station, Jim kept pace on his right. They were halfway there, when Pete turned on Jim. "What the hell are you doing?" Jim was attempting to look innocent. "I already have a shadow, thanks. The sun provides it for me. Now, why aren't you home?"

With a jerk of his head, Jim indicated that Pete needed to look over his shoulder. The only thing in that direction was the car Pete had sold to Ed. From what Pete could see, the car was empty. Pete's right eyebrow rose in a question; what did Ed's car have to do with Jim acting like a faithful Saint Bernard? The implied question was left unanswered when Daley summoned Pete once again. This time it was for a phone call. Jim, who resumed his spot on the right, was sure he heard Pete growl.

Pete has been gradually setting up shop in a rarely used office that adjoined the Watch Commander's. It provided a bit of privacy and a phone. He grabbed a short stack of messages for him and went inside. Jim followed. "Sit down and close the door, Fido."

Over the next thirty minutes, Pete made arrangements for a K9 officer to speak to a cub pack, fielded a complaint about an officer and politely explained to a woman that the LAPD didn't have the resources to look for a lost dog. He was on the phone with his insurance company when he heard snoring. The office only had one chair, so Jim had taken a seat in a corner on the floor and fallen asleep. Sometimes police work could be so exciting.

Pete didn't mind the added duties, but at that moment he wanted to be down the hall listening to Ed's meeting with the Captain. He left Jim sleeping on the floor and went to see if he could find some reason for Jim to be disturbed by the presence of Ed's car. Pete knew the minute he saw the car's interior; it was filled with clothes and fast food wrappers; almost as if he was living in his car.

Pete was heading back into the station when Jim came running out the door. He intended to speak to Mac and Moore, asking them if they set Jim up as his body guard. If that was the case, he wouldn't be able to dissuade Jim's hovering. Why fight it? He was humming "Me and My Shadow" as he walked back into the station.


	25. Chapter 25

Jim sped up to grab the door, intending to hold it open for Pete. As he started to pull on the handle, the door flung open; knocking Jim back into the brick wall. The door was opened with enough force to cause Jim to bang his head and lose his breath. While Pete grabbed hold of Jim's arm to steady him he heard Ed Wells' voice.

"Sorry Reed, but that's what you get for hanging around with _Him_." Ed's disposition had definitely gotten worse since this morning. Pete took that as a good sign.

"I like him better than I like you." Once again, Jim took up a position to Pete's right. He clearly had no intention of letting Ed hit his partner. This time, Pete was glad to have Jim as his faithful companion.

"Enjoy it while you can Reed, but don't turn your back on him. He won't hesitate to kick you when you're down." Neither man made a move to stop Ed from proceeding to his car.

Pete couldn't help but wonder when Ed was referring to. He had been hounding Wells about the training evaluation of Fraser, but Pete didn't count that as kicking someone when they were down. Any other problems Ed had stemmed from his failure to do that report. The threat to remove him as a training officer was spoken out of frustration; of all the training officers, Ed was the one who tried his patience the most. It finally occurred to Pete that Ed might be referring to something besides his job, but what? If he had any outside problems, Pete was the last person Ed would confide in.

The hall was empty as Pete, and Jim, made his way to the WC's office. It was the perfect time to ask Jim a few questions. "I saw the inside of Ed's car. Did you hear anything about why he was living in his car?"

"Brady showed it to me yesterday, but he wanted to ask me if I knew anything about it. Some of the other guys might know." Jim could see that Pete was bothered by what he saw. He also knew that Pete couldn't go around asking other officers about Ed's private life.

"Did Brady know how long it's been going on? Has Wells been behaving strangely?" Reed didn't bother to point out that he thought most of what Ed did was strange.

"There's only one reason that Ed would be living in his car. I need to know when that started." Pete wasn't technically asking Jim to look into whatever problem Ed was having, but Reed knew fishing when he saw it. Jim was willing to discreetly ask a few of the older officers if they knew anything, but he hesitated unsure about leaving Pete alone. Mac had told him to keep an eye on Pete, but that was because of Ed's behavior and Ed just left.

"Will you be okay if I sniff around some?" Jim was also a little worried about Pete's health, but he had noticed that his partner was moving more easily now.

"That's a stupid question. I'm fine and what do you think is going to happen to me in here?" Well, he could find another teenager with a gun, but Jim decided against mentioning that too. Pete assured Jim that he would be in the office making a phone call and would not be around anyone that would kick or hit him. Jim made his way to the locker room, after making Pete promise to stay put.

Pete shook his head and grinned. Sometimes, his partner could be a real mother hen. He grabbed a cup of coffee from the breakroom before going back to the same tiny office he was in before. He wasn't sure he would have all the time he needed for this phone call, but he wanted to at least try. Eventually, he was going to have to go back to see the Captain. He settled in and picking up the phone, he dialed a number he knew by heart.

Betty Wells answered after the sixth ring. Pete was about to hang up when he heard a soft and hesitant "Hello". He had known Betty longer than Ed did and never once did he hear her answering without her usual confident tone. When he identified himself, Betty told him that she was glad it was him. From what she said, it was clear that she was the unnamed caller. He asked her if everything was okay, but her answer was "I think I can come over and help; my mother is here."

Everything was not okay, but she couldn't speak about it around her mother. Pete had met Betty's mother more than once and had found her to be a kindly woman. Whatever was wrong wasn't something Betty wanted her to know about. If that was the case, why talk to him?

"Betty, would you like to meet me later, at my apartment?" As soon as he finished asking, he knew that his apartment was out of the question. There was too much a risk that Ed might show up again. "Maybe we should meet somewhere else." Pete was wracking his brain trying to figure out some place to meet that wouldn't arouse suspicion when Betty spoke again.

"I think that's a good idea. Mrs. Reed would gladly help." Reed's house was certainly a better choice than his apartment or somewhere out in public. He wasn't sure if Betty had suggested it because she wanted them to know too or if she trusted him enough to keep whatever she said to him private. Jim and Jean would definitely wonder, but he knew they wouldn't ask questions. The problem now was time; could he push off the Captain long enough to find out what was going on with Ed. A meet was set up for an hour from then; he would call Betty if there was a problem.

Pete went off in search of both Jim and Mac. Reed wasn't hard to find. He was sitting in the breakroom nursing a cup of coffee. Pete jerked his head a little to the side signaling to Jim that he wanted to speak to him minus the three other officers in the room. Once they found an empty room, Pete filled Jim in on the phone call. Reed agreed to call Jean and let her know they were coming. He also gave Pete his key and the answer to his question. As far as he could find out, Ed had started living in his car about ten days ago. Whatever the problem was, it started more than a week before Pete gave Ed that dressing down in the hallway.

Mac was quite a bit harder to deal with. It was true that the Captain had gone down to Parker Center, but he might come back at any time. He hated to mislead Mac, but he couldn't tell him where he was going. Not yet. Pete had taken a look at the roster for the am shift and knew they were running short. He told Mac that he wanted to get checked out at the hospital to see if he could be cleared for duty. The Sergeant was receptive to that idea.

Pete left the station with Reed's house key in his pocket. With any luck Pete would have time to both speak to Betty and stop at the hospital.

Betty Wells was waiting outside the Reeds' house when Pete pulled up. She gave him a peck on the cheek and thanked him for meeting her. She asked him about the black eye, but he put her off with his standard answer: bar fight. Jean wasn't home and neither was Jimmy. Just as well, he wouldn't have time to impart some more wisdom on the boy. Pete held the door open for Betty before leading her into the kitchen. It wasn't as comfortable as the living room, but Pete thought Betty would be more comfortable there. She took the bottle of Coke he offered her; fiddling with it as she started speaking.

"Do you know about Ed's brother?" Pete had met the man; he sometimes played on the division softball team, but he didn't know anything was wrong. He shook his head.

"Pat's sick, really sick and his medication is very expensive. His insurance doesn't cover it" Pete listened carefully, but didn't know why she was telling him this. What did it have to do with Ed sleeping in his car? He wanted to ask but nodded for her to continue. One thing Pete did know was that Betty's eyes had started to tear.

"Ed and I had a big fight over it. He's been paying Pat's bills without telling me." She paused to take the clean handkerchief from Pete. She wiped her eyes before continuing. Was Ed having money problems?

"You know what Ed makes. We can't afford for him to pay the medical bills. I don't want Pat to not get the medicine he needs, but…" Her voice trailed off and the crying got worse.

"But what? Is this part of the reason that Ed is living in his car?" Pete didn't want to push her, but time was short. He still needed to go to the ER.

"But I don't want to lose my house either." She hesitated, not able to meet Pete's eyes. "I threw Ed out because he's been using the mortgage money to pay Pat's bills."

"How far behind is he on the mortgage?" Pete was dumbfounded. How could Ed do that? Pete understood helping relatives, he sent money home, but to risk his wife and kids safety? Maybe he didn't have the right to ask how much they were in debt, but he needed to know.

"Four months. It's over six-hundred dollars." Her mood was starting to go from despair to anger. "When I noticed that the food budget had gotten tighter, Ed brushed it off. I wanted to get a job but he wouldn't let me." That didn't surprise Pete. More than once he had heard Ed's opinion about letting his wife work.

"Can your family help you out? Loan you the money?" Over the next ten minutes, Betty explained why her family and Ed's couldn't help with the bills. Either they were already helping pay Pat's bills or they were barely making ends meet. Most of their friends were cops and they don't get paid enough to be able to help. Pete cringed when she asked if they lost the house, would they qualify for welfare even though Ed had a job.

"Has Ed told you about what's been happening at work?" Pete couldn't tell her the details, but if she was counting on Ed's salary, she needed to know what might happen. If Ed hadn't told her yet, he would have to.

"Ed and I aren't talking. What's wrong?" Betty knew Pete well enough to know that whatever he had to say was bad. "He's not hurt, is he?"

"Physically, he's fine. Did you know that he's sleeping in his car?" Betty shook her head "no". He was living with his mother, or she thought he was.

"I wish I could tell you what's been happening, but I can't. Ed's in trouble. He might lose his job." Pete held her while she cried on his shoulder. It was all he could do.

"Can you help him? Maybe talk to the Captain?" Pete was starting to feel like a heel. He should tell Betty that some of Ed's problems were partly his fault. Ed was sure to blame him when they finally talked to each other.

"We'll think of something…"


	26. Chapter 26

Pete didn't know what to do. He had held Betty while she cried herself out. This was a much bigger problem than he thought it would be. Betty Wells was one of the first people he met when he moved to Los Angeles. They had some classes together in college, before he dropped out. She had taken pity on a farm boy alone in a new city. Pete was surprised when he found out that Ed's wife was his old study buddy. It was something that drove Ed crazy and Pete took delight in occasionally reminding Ed of that fact.

When she had finished crying, Pete walked Betty to her car. He had promised to help her, the question was how. Even if he wanted to, he doubted that anything he said would alter Ed's fate. Pete's meeting with Captain Moore was mainly to give Pete advanced warning on his decision. Considering Ed's behavior at Pete's apartment Moore felt it was a matter of Pete's safety. Even if he could change things, did he want to? He could try to help Betty without using what influence he had with the Captain.

Pete knew that Ed wasn't the first person to have to make a choice between two bad options. It was easy to not make a payment when you are seriously worried about a family member's health. You think you can make it up and then the next month comes and you are stuck again. When do you say "enough" and stop helping someone you love. Who do you sacrifice?

Central Receiving's Emergency Room was packed with patients. Pete thought about leaving but this visit to the ER was his alibi. Being in uniform put him just behind people that were actually bleeding. Sally, now head nurse, grabbed Pete by his right arm so she could lead him to an empty room. He gasped and jerked his arm out of her grasp. It wasn't her fault; he was wearing his Class A uniform; long sleeved shirt and tie. Once inside the exam room, Pete stripped down to his bare chest. Sally didn't seem worried about the bruises on his stomach or the bite on his arm. What caught her attention was the nasty scar on his chest. Before she left the exam room, she gave him a peck on the cheek and whispered in his ear."I'm glad you're still around. Don't scare us like that again, okay?"

"I'll try not to." He flashed her smile. "You weren't worried about me, were you?" She swatted his good arm and left. Times like this, he wondered what would have happened had they been able to keep up the romance they started. It wasn't a break-up in the traditional sense. It faded gradually as their work schedules kept them apart. He was thinking about that day in Silverload when Dr. Ankerson came into the room. He poked and prodded Pete's stomach, asking if he was taking his antibiotics. The doctor left the room while a nurse cleaned and bandaged the bite. Pete left with a medical report stating that he could return to full duty after another twenty-four hours.

Pete was happy with another day on light duty. When the shift switched to the PM watch, he would be cleared to join them. He wondered what the reaction of the other shift members would be to whatever punishment Wells received. Their opinions didn't matter to him personally; he knew that Ed's punishment was Ed's fault, not his. Still, it might make the next few shifts uncomfortable, especially for Jim.

Ed deserved to be punished, but did Betty and the kids deserve it too? Pete knew it wasn't fair, but they would also suffer for Ed's actions; they already were. He couldn't let Betty down. If it weren't for her, he might have left LA years ago. Pete was short on money back then and was on the receiving end of daily phone calls from his mother demanding that he come home and work the farm. Everything he had now was because she listened to him. Betty would ask him to come to her parents' home to study in a quieter place than the dorms. He appreciated the fact that their study appointments were always scheduled at dinnertime She convinced a friend of hers to hire him as a bartender despite the fact that Pete knew absolutely nothing about mixing drinks. It was a debt he could never fully repay, but he could start. Before returning to the station, Pete made one more stop.

The station was experiencing its usual mid-day chaos; officers rushing through the halls, prisoners in the holding cells, drunks singing. Pete smiled, some things never change. He fielded a few questions from Sgt. Miller and Officer Demba, but he didn't see any sign of MacDonald. He wasn't in the Watch Commanders office or the breakroom. Pete would check the Captain's office, but the Captain's car wasn't in its usual spot. Charlie, one of the officers on the front desk, told him that Mac had gone home.

Pete went back to the watch commander's office to drop off his medical release. When he picked up his messages there was a note from Captain Moore. He was stuck at Parker Center for the rest of the day. Pete and Mac were to be in Moore's office at 8 am tomorrow morning. Pete was just as glad to have another day. He wanted to talk some things over with Jim.

There was a time, early on in their partnership, where Pete wouldn't have asked Jim for advice on anything, but this was years later. Reed had come a long way from that rookie who couldn't even clear the unit properly. He had grown into someone that Pete not only trusted with his life but that Pete respected. He was proud of the cop that Jim had become. Pete changed out of his uniform and left the station.

While Pete was at the hospital, Jim had an unexpected visitor at his house; Rob Fraser, Ed's rookie. Jim wasn't sure why he was there, but he let Fraser in. After introducing him to Jean and Jimmy, Jim led the young officer into the den. They would have some privacy in there. Fraser fiddled with his keys before he finally spoke up.

"I'm scared Reed. I didn't know who else to talk to. I mean, you're his partner." Jim wasn't surprised that Fraser was scared or that he was afraid of Pete. For the longest time, Jim was afraid of him too.

"Are you worried that Pete is going to recommend to the Academy that you be let go?" Reed remembered that feeling; the worry that one day Pete would kick him to the curb. Until he rode with a rookie himself, Jim didn't realize how trying being responsible to teach someone and keep them safe at the same time was.

"Yeah…I mean one word from Malloy and I'm history. You'd be worried too if you saw the way he was looking at me that night. All the rookies know; he's just waiting for an excuse to boot us". Jim was almost positive that Pete would not want him to totally wipe out Rob's fear, but he needed to defend his partner. He would have to be careful what he told Fraser.

"Rob, you've got it wrong. Malloy's job is to see that you are properly trained. He has to be tough on you to keep you alive." This was taught at the Academy but one dressing down from Pete was enough to scare anyone. "He was my training officer. I know better than anyone how it feels to be on the receiving end of one of his lectures. Trust me. He's not out to get you."

"I'm going to lose my job, Reed. I was only doing what Ed told me to, but Malloy won't see it that way." Fraser was holding onto his keys so tightly that Jim would swear they were cutting into the rookie's palm.

"What did Pete tell you? Did he say anything about having you dismissed?" Reed was fighting the urge to call Pete and tell him to come over and deal with this mess.

"No. He told me that he wanted the truth, but then he used it against me with the Captain." Jim sighed, he knew that Pete wasn't capable of twisting the facts nor would he use anything Fraser told him maliciously.

"Wait a minute. Telling Captain Moore the truth is what we are supposed to do. Did you expect Malloy to cover for you?"

"Ed told me that Malloy couldn't be trusted. I should have lied." It wasn't a shock that Ed had said that; what other defense could he come up with? Jim had been in that hall too.

"Listen to me Rob. There is no one that I trust more than Pete Malloy. He wouldn't know how to back-stab anyone." Jim had to get this kid to understand so he wouldn't repeat what Ed told him. "He's doing his job and he wouldn't have that position if he couldn't put aside his personal feelings."

"Maybe, but both of us are going to lose our jobs because of Malloy." This had to stop.

"IF Wells loses his job, it will be his own fault. You don't know what is going to happen to you, but I will tell you this. As a rookie, you can make mistakes that a veteran officer can't get away with." Fraser seemed to be calming down a little as what Jim said sunk in. Pete had already told Jim that he was switching Fraser to Walters for further training. He would love to put Fraser's fears to rest, but that wasn't his place. The two of them talked for another twenty minutes before Fraser left. Jim went into the bedroom to call Pete.

Jean had told Jim to invite Pete over for dinner; that Jimmy wanted to see him. Reed knew his wife was as curious as he was about what Pete and Betty talked about that afternoon. Jim had told Jean everything he knew about the events of the last few days. She was more upset that Ed hit Pete than Jim was. As far as Jim was concerned, Jean was the worse mother hen of the family.

Pete was walking up the driveway when Jimmy came barreling out the front door. He leapt up; sure that his Godfather would catch him. Pete caught the boy, gave him a hug and then flipped Jimmy over so that the child was dangling upside down, giggling. He was laughing as he swung the boy sideways like a wiggling pendulum. Jimmy was still hanging upside down when Pete finally reached the front door and Jean.

"Pete Malloy! Turn my son right side up. Or don't you care that he is drooling on your shoes." Pete really didn't care at all. He was having too much fun with his Godson.

"He likes it. See?" Pete started spinning around, still holding Jimmy by the ankles. Jimmy was yelling "Faster!" Pete wasn't all that upset when Jean stepped in to take Jimmy. His stomach muscles were starting to complain. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box and handed it to Jimmy. It was a Matchbox car. As they walked into the house, he promised Jimmy that they would play cars, including the boy's new lime green tow truck.

After dinner, Pete and the two male Reeds, played cars for half an hour; stopping only when Jean came in and announced that it was time for Jimmy's bath. They cleaned up the cars before going out to the kitchen for another helping of coffee and homemade apple pie. Pete tossed Jim his key and thanked him for the use of his home. He laughed when Jim gave him a look that said "Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?" Not yet, there was pie to finish and a book needed to be read to Jimmy.

Delaying did serve a purpose; Pete still wasn't sure how much he should tell them. In the end, they waited for Jean so Pete could tell them both at the same time. Without telling them the reason Betty threw Ed out, he explained the main problem. That Ed's brother was very sick. Betty hadn't told him so, but Pete got the idea that Pat's life was in danger. Worrying over that could explain the changes in Ed over the last four months, but it didn't excuse what Ed had done in the station. When pressed, he told them that the Wells' were fighting over money. Jean left them alone to talk in private.

"I don't know what to do. I told Betty that Ed was in danger of being suspended or being fired. I had to warn her. It seems they aren't talking." Pete kept turning his mug of coffee. Jim recognized his partner's nervous habit. "She wants me to help sway the Captain from firing Ed. I'm not even sure I would do it if I could."

"The question is, would you be able to convince the Captain to go easy on him?" Jim knew that only Pete or Mac might have enough influence to change things for Ed.

"Maybe, but why should I? He almost got seven of us shot. How can I justify asking for leniency for Wells?" Pete couldn't stand to sit any longer. He got up and paced back and forth in the kitchen. "I've never spoken up for someone who screwed up this bad. It might not work. Sure, I could convince him about your reprimand, but this is much worse than a dented car. And then there is still the problem of Betty."

Jim had never seen his friend so conflicted. He knew a little about Pete's friendship with Betty; enough to know that Pete felt obligated to help her. However, he also knows that Wells has been a thorn in Pete's side for years. Two of Ed's former partners had told him that Wells resented Pete's authority over him.

"I only have so much influence with the Captain. Why should I waste it on him? Can I compromise my values that much?" Pete failed to notice Jim's impression of someone at a tennis match trying to watch both players. Not only was Pete walking faster, he was running his fingers through his hair and his voice was getting louder. Wisely, Jim didn't try to respond to Pete's ranting. Sometimes the best thing you can do for someone is to listen.

"He just backed me up on this whole training officer fight with Mac. If I put in a word for Wells, I'm going to be going against Mac." Pete stopped suddenly; turning to face Jim.

"Is Ed worth risking my friendship with Mac?" Jean came into the room to tell them, Pete, to lower his voice. It was disturbing Jimmy. He didn't even realize that he was yelling. The frantic pacing continued until Jean handed him a large, very ripe tomato. Pete stopped and stared at Jean. He was totally confused by this.

"Throw it. Go on. As hard as you can; hit the sliding glass door." Pete looked at the tomato in his hand, then back at Jean and then to the tomato again. Suddenly, it made perfect sense. If he couldn't hit Ed, he could imagine that the tomato was Ed. He wound-up and threw it as hard as he could. The tomato slammed into the glass and burst wide open; sending bits of it flying around the room. It was very satisfying.

"Thanks that helped." Pete flopped into one of the kitchen chairs. "God, I'm tired."

It was getting late and Jim had to go to work so Pete thanked them and left. Jean had declined his offer to help clean-up the mess. He was looking forward to the oblivion of sleep, but he had one stop to make before going home to bed. He snuck up on a small ranch house and slipped a plain, white envelope under the door.


	27. Chapter 27

How long can a person stare at the same ceiling before going insane? Pete didn't have an answer to the question he was asking himself, but he was sure that he was halfway there. Trying to keep everything straight in his head was like trying to hold onto a handful of worms; the tighter you hold them, the more they slip away. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of both hands. The weird blackness he saw was an improvement over the ceiling. Finally, he gave up and got out of bed. It was 3:30 in the morning.

He was tempted to make a pot of coffee, but decided it was too much trouble. Besides, diet cola was loaded with caffeine and already cold. He had to open three kitchen drawers before he found the bottle opener. Reed never did put it back in the right drawer. He chugged half the bottle before settling down at the table. Maybe it would help for him to write it all down; make a list.

"Now I'm thinking like Jim? Mr. Organization." He was talking out loud to an empty apartment. Pete didn't have any pets; not even a gold fish. "Oh yeah, I need to call him." Technically, he wasn't alone. A tiny greenish -yellow blinking light was flying around his living room. He thought about catching the Lightning Bug and letting it outside but he liked the company.

Pete went over to the phone on the wall in the kitchen and dialed the station's number. He had hoped to speak to Jim, but he had to leave a message for him to call back no matter what the time. Pete thought it would be better if Jim spoke to the Captain and Mac concerning Fraser's opinion of him. It didn't make sense to leave a message for Moore or MacDonald since they wouldn't get in until Pete was already there. Pete finished his list, spoke to Jim and let the Lightning Bug out. Once again, he stared at that stupid ceiling, wishing that he hadn't let the little bug go.

By seven am Pete was parked in the lot behind the station. He had picked up breakfast at a nearby Mom and Pop store but hadn't started eating until he arrived. It was very hard to eat and drive a stick shift at the same time and that is why Jim found him sitting on the short wall outside the station. They spoke for a few minutes about what Pete was planning on doing in his meeting with Mac and Moore. Jim finished off Pete's corn muffin while they walked into the station.

The station was crowded and noisy. For the first time in days, no one stopped him to ask about things they knew he couldn't talk about. Jim and Walters kept Pete informed of the comments being made around the station. Most of them didn't bother him; he couldn't stop the gossiping if he tried. At least not in the usual sense of the word, but all talking stopped when he entered the locker room. He changed in relative silence. Normally, he wouldn't need to wear his uniform for a meeting but Captain Moore had made it clear that he wanted both Pete and Mac to wear their uniforms. He wasn't sure why.

Pete made a brief stop in the Watch Commander's office. He needed to make sure that he was on the roster for tonight's shift. He also picked up his messages. Sgt Murphy entered the office to speak to him. If Pete had to describe the looks he was getting from Murphy, he would say "confused".

"Eh…Pete? I took a strange phone message for you. A crying woman called to say "You shouldn't have done that, but Thank You". Do you want to explain that to me?"

"Not really Murph. It's personal. It has nothing to do with work." What the heck, Pete tried once more to invoke St. Michael's help. He even took back the "fickle" comment. Pete really needed Murphy to not press the issue. Was a half-truth, told to protect someone's privacy, considered a lie?

"I've got you scheduled for the PM watch today. Will you still be able to work it?" It seemed like St. Michael was on his side again. That, in itself, was weird. Unlike his Mother, Pete long ago gave up daily prayer and going to mass, but now, he was falling back on part of his religious teachings. Is prayer really born of desperation?

Pete assured the sergeant that he would be working later. He grabbed a few messages out of his box and left. The meeting with Mac and Captain Moore was in ten minutes. Somewhere between the watch commander's office and the Captain's office, Pete made up his mind. He would give them the all facts about both Fraser and Wells and let the other two take it from there.

Pete could smell the coffee before he entered Moore's office. Apparently the Captain had finally decided to replace his broken coffee machine. Pete thought that he replaced it for convenience and not because his presence in the breakroom made younger officers nervous. He took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk, next to MacDonald; accepting a large mug of coffee from Moore.

"As you know, I am meeting with Officer Wells in two hours. Unless either of you wish to express an opinion I will be firing him. Do I hear any objection?" Pete glanced at Mac to see if he wanted to say anything. When Mac stayed silent, Pete turned his attention to Captain Moore.

"Captain, if I may, I think there are a few things that you should know before you speak with Wells." Pete could feel both of them tense as he spoke up. Neither one of them objected so he continued. The Captain gave his permission for Jim to come into the meeting to speak about Fraser. Pete, who gave up his seat to Jim, was leaning against the back wall of the office. Jim paused after relating Fraser's fear of being fired.

"What have you decided to do about him?" Moore's question was obviously directed at Pete.

"I intended on reassigning him to Bill Walters. The people at the Academy agree with me that he does have the potential to be a good cop. I was planning on asking you to extend his probation." Moore was no dummy. He caught the past tense.

"Have you changed your mind?" In answer, Pete asked Jim to tell them what else the rookie had said. The tension in the room increased in response to Fraser's assertion that all the rookies knew Pete was out to get them. All three men were waiting for the Captain's response. Finally, Moore used the intercom to ask Gladys, his secretary, to call Officer Fraser and tell him to report to Moore as soon as possible.

"Rookies are supposed to be afraid of Pete. Sorry my friend, but you know that better than I do. However, the impression that Pete is just waiting for them to make a mistake so that he could chop their heads off needs to be stopped. We need to find out where this came from and how widespread it is." He thanked Jim for reporting the problem then told him he could go. Jim agreed to be around a phone if they needed to speak to him again. He nodded to Pete and got silent thanks from his partner.

"I need to know if Fraser got that idea from Wells. You both said you never thought Wells would assault Pete. Has his behavior changed recently? Do either of you have anything to say about him?" Pete had spoken to Mac about the changes he had been noticing about Ed, but MacDonald chose to defer to Pete.

"I was going to talk to you about this during the training meeting. I thought it could wait."

"Apparently, you were wrong." Moore wasn't in the mood to pull his punches.

"I agreed with Pete. We wanted to wait until we had more information." Pete and Mac locked eyes for a brief second in agreement; they would back each other.

"You and I have already discussed the problems with him as a training officer. I don't run into Ed that much during a shift so the problem wasn't blatantly obvious. Three months or so ago, a few of the officers who choose to talk with Ed started to come to me to express some concerns. " Pete paused, trying to decide how to proceed.

"Their concerns were that he seemed to be having a personal problem. No one had, at this point, suggested that it was affecting his work. Ed does not confide in me. That left me with one option; to keep an eye on him to see if it began to have an effect on his work." A sip of his coffee and continued on.

"Normally, Jim and I make a point to respond, as back-up, on any calls that might end up needing more than two units. It was at the scene of a 211 that I noticed something. Ed was distracted; he wasn't responding to questions. When I asked him about it, he said that he was tired."

"Did you press him on that? Ask the other responding officers?" Moore had been taking notes as Pete spoke. He paused, waiting for the answer to his question.

"Not at that point. It was the first time I had seen that behavior from him. I didn't ask anyone else because I didn't want to call attention to it. That was around two months ago. I had confided in Jim. He would have noticed himself that we were responding to more of Wells' calls." Pete pushed against the wall he was leaning on. A little slow pacing helped him think.

"The change was gradual. He didn't go from 'normal Ed' to 'careless Ed' overnight. Not that I think there is a normal person named Ed Wells, but he changed. He started making rookie mistakes. A few of the older officers mentioned that even on his own calls, Ed was leaving them to handle it. His mood was sullen. He's normally loud, annoying and bragging, but he was quiet; keeping to himself. I noticed a number of calls that his unit was 'unable to respond' to. When I asked him about it, I couldn't get a straight answer from him." He stopped speaking; wondering if he had the right to reveal Ed's personal problems. Moore shifted his attention to MacDonald.

"When did you become aware of this?" If Pete didn't know better, he might have thought Moore was asking, indirectly, if Pete had failed to tell Mac everything.

"Pete first told me about it right after he heard from the older officers. I was content to have Pete look into things. He kept me informed on what was happening. Two weeks ago, he told me about the more serious problems. That's when his unit started refusing calls." Moore asked Pete to sit in the chair next to MacDonald.

"Is there some reason that you two decided _not_ to tell me then?" It was a very pointed question. Moore stared at them; waiting for an answer. Pete started to answer, but Mac took the ball.

"I asked Pete to find out why. There had to be a reason. It was a problem, but it hadn't reached the emergency stage until the other night." Whap, the ball was back in Pete's court.

"Until yesterday, I didn't have all the facts." He paused before taking the plunge. "Did either one of you know that Ed has been living in his car?"

A stunned silence was followed with a barrage of questions. Foremost among them were "why" and "When"? Nope, thought Pete. They didn't know that tidbit.

"I found out about it two days ago. Reed showed me after Brady showed him. It started twelve days ago. That's when Betty, his wife, threw him out." As hard as this 'chat' had been, it was getting harder. Pete hated airing Ed's problems; even to his superiors. Weren't some things private?

"And you are sure of this, how?" This time, Mac couldn't back Pete up. He hadn't told MacDonald any of what he found out yesterday. Pete nodded to the first question; he had yet to answer the other part of that. Pete needed time. He got up to fill his coffee mug.

"I asked you a question, Officer Malloy." Ouch. Captain Moore hadn't called Pete that in over ten years. He had no objection to reporting on Ed's work life, but it wasn't only his personal life involved.

"Yes, I'm sure. Betty Wells told me what day she threw him out." He knew the Captain well enough to know that wasn't the last question. Betty had asked him to keep their marital details private. He hadn't promised to keep it quiet, but he knew how she felt about it.

"Did she happen to tell you why she did that?" Pete hadn't returned to his seat after refilling his mug with coffee. Without paying attention to where he walked, Pete ended up by the window. He was looking out over the parking lot; it wasn't much of a view. "Yes, she did."

"Look at me when I'm talking to you. I expect more of an answer than that. Now, why did she throw her husband out?"

"Does it matter? Isn't it enough to know that being thrown out had a negative effect on Ed?" Their eyes locked and the Captain could read in Pete's eyes how much this was bothering him. He decided to approach it from a different angle.

"What made you call his wife? Did you expect her to tell you or were you fishing?" Moore leaned back in his chair, waiting.

"I realized that the woman making the calls Jim mentioned was Betty. So I called her back." Pete half sat on the bookcase under the window. Moore's silence served to drive home the point that he was willing to wait Pete out. "Betty doesn't want Ed to know that she called me for help. Can we respect her wishes?"

"I'll try to. That's the best I can do. Did she want you to help her husband?" So far, getting this last bit of information from Pete was like pulling teeth.

"She didn't know anything about the problems at work. Their fight was over money." They waited patiently while he took another sip of coffee. "Ed's brother Pat is very sick. Pat has no insurance and he can't afford his medicine. Betty threw Ed out when she found a foreclosure notice in the mail. Ed was using the mortgage money to pay for Pat's medications. Okay?" It didn't make much sense, but he felt guilty for telling them. He went back to staring out the window; ignoring the whispers coming from behind him. The Captain had to call his name a few times before Pete heard it.

"Do you want me to take these things into account when I make my final decision? Do the reasons excuse the action?" He wasn't asking to hear himself talking; he wanted to hear Pete's opinion.

"No Skipper, it doesn't. You taught me that."


	28. Chapter 28

"No Skipper, it doesn't. You taught me that."

Pete's response lingered in the silence. Once he answered, Pete went back to staring at the parking lot; wishing something would move outside and distract him. He would have settled for a squirrel or a rat; anything to disturb the stillness of both places. Finally, it was Mac who broke the spell.

"Maybe I should have reported Wells' behavior earlier. If I had, he might not have been in the field that night. It was my responsibility to take action sooner." It seemed to Pete that MacDonald wanted to take all of the blame for the delay in bringing the problem to Moore's attention. He felt that if there was blame to be had, he was as guilty as Mac was. Would it really have made a difference?

"What if we had spoken up earlier? We had no proof of wrongdoing on Ed's part. All we had were suspicions and conjecture." He turned his attention to the Captain. "Would you have taken any action then, a week ago?"

"Exactly when did you find out how bad things were for Wells?" This time it was Mac who did the asking. Did Mac think that he hid information from him?

"Yesterday afternoon, some of it anyway" Pete was slowly turning the mug he held in his hands. "That's when I found out about Ed sleeping in his car. Later in the day, I spoke to Betty."

"In this conversation…" The question was cut off by the buzz of the intercom. Fraser was waiting in the outer office. He hesitated before stepping into the room. Probationers rarely spoke to captains and this was Fraser's second time in less than a day. Captain Moore invited him to have a seat, but his tone made it clear that it was an order.

"Do you do know Officer Malloy, the Senior Lead? But of course you do. He's the Chief Training Officer, isn't he?" Pete was trying very hard not to smile; he had to admire Moore's technique. It was then that Pete realized the reason for insisting on uniforms; intimidation. From his spot by the window, Malloy could see the young officer tremble and nod his head.

"Take a good look at Malloy there. Does he remind you of a hangman or a lion about to pounce?" When Fraser looked at him, Pete did his best to look both stern and approachable. Mac coughed in order to cover a chuckle. Moore stood up, put both hands on his desk and leaned forward. The Captain, who was taller than Pete, towered over the much shorter Fraser.

"Do you really think that someone who does his job is looking for reasons to have you fired? Officers, like Malloy there, turn down promotions because they care enough to make sure that you are properly trained so you don't get yourself or another officer killed out there." The rookie slid down so far in his chair that Mac grabbed his wrist to stop Fraser before he fell off the seat. Moore pointed to Pete once more.

"It's his job to make sure that the training you get is as good as the training that other rookies get." The Captain pushed his hands to the far edge of the desk; His head was less than a foot above Fraser.

"Do you think you are worth that kind of dedication? Should Malloy and the other CTOs on the force, give up, take promotions and leave probationers to the hand of fate? Maybe you'll receive the best training and maybe not; maybe you'll be killed, maybe you won't. Is that what you want?" Pete had been on the end of many such lectures, from Moore, during his rookie year; a tiny, tiny part of his sympathized with Fraser.

"Officer Malloy. Kindly tell this probationer what you planned for him after you removed Officer Wells as his training officer."

"Retraining with Officer Walters and three months added to his probationary period."

Fraser just sat there staring at Pete. He thought they called him in here to fire him, but three more months' probation was nothing compared to losing his job. Under further questioning by Moore, Fraser admitted to telling two other rookies the rumor about Malloy. He also said that he got the idea from comments he heard Wells making about Pete being power happy.

"I'm going to go with your Chief Training Officer's recommendation, providing that you tell everyone one you told, and those they told, about Officer Malloy being out to get rookies, that you were wrong.

" _Do_ you understand? Fraser, who was smart enough to know that he dodged a bullet, agreed to the conditions set and left before the Captain changed his mind.

Pete had taken the seat vacated by Fraser. He couldn't stop yawning. Caffeine, even lots of it, wouldn't keep someone awake forever. If he didn't sleep soon, he wouldn't be able to work the PM shift. Captain Moore had left the room in order to speak to his secretary in private. He came back in to hear Pete's latest yawn and Mac's telling Pete to please stop yawning before he starts to do it too. Yawns are contagious.

"When was the last time you slept?" Pete stifled a yawn, opened one eye and replied to the Captain's question. "Last week?" That said, Pete closed his eye and leaned his head back against the chair. He was beyond tired and well on his way to being punchy.

"I have one more question." Captain Moore paused; waiting for Pete to sit up and pay attention. Mac was chuckling; he heard what the Captain didn't. Pete had let out a low groan as he sat up. He knew that Pete's groan had nothing to do with being in physical pain.

"When you spoke to Wells' wife, did she tell you anything else that might have contributed to the changes in his behavior?" She had told him about one other thing, but there was no way he would share something that personal about Ed.

"She spent most of the time we were together crying." He knew he was being evasive but Pete didn't want to answer that question honestly; he prayed that Moore would let the matter drop. To his credit, Moore did let Pete get away with a half-answer.

"You two can go. My meeting with Wells is coming up soon and I need to go over the reports. I feel like I need to give Officer Wells one more chance to tell me the truth. Thank you both." Pete and Mac shared a hint of confusion. Was the Captain changing his mind?

"Fox?" Pete stopped his movement towards the door; turning to see what else Moore wanted. "Do you know if Mrs. Wells has solved her mortgage problem?" If he was expecting Pete to give anything away, he was out of luck. Malloy had put on his poker face.

"Yes, Skipper. She has." Pete gave Moore a casual salute and left.

Mac lingered despite having permission to leave. "Did you mean to suggest that Pete paid the mortgage? He wouldn't give Ed a paper clip."

"She had a problem yesterday but not today. If her or Ed's family could help, why haven't they done so already?" Moore didn't know why Pete would help Wells' wife, but he was sure Pete did. "Go home Bill. Take care of your family."

Mac shook his head and chuckled as he left the office. "I wonder if I will ever totally figure our friend out."

Pete finally made it home. Once he was inside his apartment, he took two aspirin and stripped down to a tee shirt and boxers before hopping into bed. The building was bursting with the sounds of babies crying, kids yelling and people hammering. He didn't hear any of it for hours.

While Pete slept, Captain Moore was working. He spoke to the head of Internal Affairs, someone from the Chief's office and a few captains whose opinions he respected. Pete was right; the reasons behind someone's conduct didn't excuse it. Wells was guilty. The nature of his punishment was subject to Moore's own personal opinion. Wells would never win 'police officer of the month', but he wasn't a bad cop. Do you take into account the years he has served or are they irrevelant? He heard arguments for both sides during his phone calls. He hadn't asked MacDonald or Malloy; he didn't want to put them on the spot. This was his to decide.

When Wells entered the office, Moore hid all uncertainly before it showed on his face. As Wells took a seat, Moore poured himself a mug of coffee. It was a signal to Wells; this was not a casual conversation between friends. Ed squirmed in his seat as the Captain slowly sipped his coffee and stared at him. Finally, Moore spoke.

"Officer Wells. I have read the reports about the incident early Saturday morning. In addition, I have spoken to all the witnesses, including you. I have read your statement about the encounter you and Malloy had outside of his apartment. I have read both Malloy and Reed's statements about that encounter. I have also read the statements of three witnesses to that encounter. I have one question for you." As the Captain spoke, he placed more and more emphasis on the word "I". It was like a hammer hitting a nail harder and harder.

"Why is every one of your statements in conflict with those of the other witnesses?"

Ed didn't speak right away. He expected to be fired and didn't know if anything he said would change that fact. If the Captain hadn't been thinking that way, he was sure that MacDonald and Malloy would have argued for his termination. Did he have any chance of saving his job? He had to try.

"I was afraid of being fired…Sir." He needed to be respectful, but how do you grovel and keep your self-respect?

"In other words, you lied. Is that what you are telling me?" Captain Moore couldn't believe it. If Wells had been honest about what happened that morning, he wouldn't be in this spot now.

"I don't know if…." Ed let that sentence die when he saw Moore's facial expression. He was giving Wells the same look of disgust that most people have after they step in a pile of dog droppings.

"Yes Sir. I lied. I know I shouldn't have, but I panicked after Malloy's threat." Moore stared at Wells over the rim of his coffee mug. He slowly sipped the dark liquid; waiting for Wells to volunteer more information. When Ed failed to explain that statement, Moore spoke again.

"Are you blaming all this on a threat that would have never been made if you were doing your job in the first place? Am I to understand that you were threatened without cause?" To emphasize his point, the Captain waved a hand over the spread out statements on his desk.

"Malloy didn't have to threaten me. So I was late with the paperwork. Couldn't he trust me? Instead he followed me around, watching me." In his mind, he still thought that things would have been fine if Pete hadn't gotten involved.

"Trusting you is not in his job description. Nor is it in mine." He finished up his coffee and poured himself another mug full. "You seem to have a problem with Pete. Would you mind explaining that?"

"I don't have a problem with him. He's a nice guy, but …" It was right around then when Wells remembered that Captain Moore had been Pete's training officer. Maybe dissing Malloy wouldn't help his case.

"But what?"

"At work, it's like he's "Joe Cop": so serious. I mean, have some fun. I do." Moore had some very vivid memories of being on patrol and laughing with Pete. He also knew that rising in the ranks can get in the way of fun at work.

"He has a lot more responsibly than you do. Supervisors have to keep some distance from the other officers. He also had reason to be checking up on you. Enough of this. If blaming Malloy for your trouble is all you are going to do. This meeting is over." Moore had hoped that Wells would tell him the truth. He could have spared himself this waste of time.

"That's the problem Captain. Things in my personal life caused those problems with Pete. He was right." It galled Wells to admit that Pete was right to want to remove him as a training officer. Ed shifted in his chair. The Captain was content to wait him out.

"My brother is sick. He might die." Wells had finally accepted the fact that he would have to tell the Captain everything. No one had ever heard Wells speak this honestly. He told Moore about the money problems, pressures of his family to help his brother, his problems with Betty and, finally, the effect these problems were having on with his ability to his work properly.

"Leave your problems at the door. It's not so easy sometimes, is it?" The Captain refilled his mug and poured one for Ed. "I do know about your behavior on patrol. Some of the other officers mentioned their concerns about you. MacDonald asked Pete to see what he could find out. Why didn't you say something to me before it got this bad?" Moore spoke softly; after all, he did care about his men. Would this effect his decision? Even Moore didn't know for sure.

"You would have fired me sooner and I needed the money." The Captain shook his head; now he understood why Wells tried Pete's patience. If nothing else, he could have assigned Ed to a desk job until he could keep his mind focused while on patrol.

"You don't know that. You're free to leave. I'll let you know my decision tomorrow."

A ringing phone, not the noise outside his apartment, succeeded in waking Pete up. There was a hint of a grumble in Pete's hello. Jim actually called him to make sure that he was awake; he wanted to make sure his partner would be at work. While Pete was on light-duty, Jim had been riding with Woods. Jerry was a good guy, but he could talk your ear off.

After roll call Jim checked out the shotgun while Pete spoke to Walters about taking over Fraser's training starting with the next shift. Pete expected to find Jim sitting in the unit and he was, but he was sitting in the driver's seat. That was not going to happen tonight. He snuck up on Reed from behind and pulled the car door open.

"OUT! Scram, scoot, skedaddle, shoo." Reed jumped so high that he hit his head on the roof of the car. Luckily, he had already secured the shotgun below the seat.

"What? I thought I'd drive today; give you a chance to slowly get used to patrol again." He had the silliest grin on his face.

"No, no, no, no, no. I wasn't gone so long that I forgot how to drive. Move it." Pete's right hand was waving backwards, indicating where he wanted Reed to go. In case he didn't get it yet.

"I've been practicing my high speed driving. You gotta see it." So far, Jim hadn't moved to his customary seat. Plus, he was still wearing that silly grin. "Woods trusted me to drive every day."

"Everyone knows that Woods is the gullible type. I'm not. Move over and clear us, will ya?"

"Come on Pete. Let me drive this shift." This routine had a long history: Jim begging and Pete refusing. Pete had 63 days from now in the station betting pool. He had ten bucks invested in it. Pete missed the familiar banter while he was out; his missed his partner. Since their talk the other day, Captain Moore hadn't brought up the sergeant's exam again. Pete knew that wouldn't last.

They passed the first hour without a call. No speeding cars. No deuces. Not even a jay-walker. They didn't mind. It gave Pete time to tell Jim about Captain Moore and Fraser. When he finished his tale, Jim launched into his plans for cutting down that big, dead tree in his yard.

Pete was cruising a modest, quiet section of their beat. It was a neighborhood that rarely required their attention. He almost made a right hand turn onto Baxter Lane, but pulled the squad car back to the left. He never drove down that street unless he had to. it had been years since Jim killed a teenage sniper there, but he tensed up anytime they drove past that house. Why remind him?

The first call they responded to was a missing child. He was five years-old and had been gone for over an hour. His parents had searched the house and property, but Jim and Pete checked it out anyway. They knew the weird places kids found to hide. Twenty minutes later, Jim found the boy. He was hiding in a dog house two doors down, happily eating from a big bag of M & M's that his mother told him he couldn't have. They left the boy with two very annoyed parents.

"That kid is going to be up all night. That one pound bag was almost empty." Pete was hoping to distract Jim from that dead tree.

Jim cleared them and dove back into his plans for the tree. "I figure that we can run a rope from the chimney to the tree trunk and another from the top of the pole for the clothes line." He was so excited that he was talking with his hands. Pete idly wondered when was the last time Jim had a tetanus shot before remembering the TV antenna. Cutting down the tree was definitely going to involve a trip to the ER.

"Wouldn't you rather hire someone to cut it down? What if it falls on the house?" If this suggestion didn't change Jim's mind, he had some other ideas on how to get out of cutting down the tree.

"! Adam-12, 1 Adam-12. 211 in progress, silent alarm. Freeway Liquors. 223 Third Street. Handle Code 3." They turned onto 3rd in time to see two armed males running out of the store and getting into a green 1970 impala two door. Jim called in the pursuit as Pete turned on the reds and siren.

"They're going to go on the Freeway. I just know it." Pete was talking to himself again. Jim was too busy with the radio to hear Pete's mutterings. The impala ran a red light, nearly hitting an old Ford pick-up and causing Pete to have to slam on the brakes. He maneuvered around the truck and hit the gas once more. "Damn". The impala flew up the on-ramp for the Freeway. That was the end of the division lines, but you don't stop a pursuit in the middle because of district lines. Five thirty on a weekday afternoon wasn't the best time for a high speed pursuit.

The Impala was weaving around the slower moving cars. It side-swiped a Plymouth wagon and kept going. Two cars darting through traffic was never a good idea. Jim called in a request for help from the highway patrol. Instead of following the Impala's weaving, Pete pulled onto the shoulder. He could keep pace with the impala without further endangering the commuters trying to get home safely. Both cars were traveling at over 70 miles per hour.

A high speed pursuit is dangerous on empty streets, but on a busy highway it was near suicide. So far, they hadn't gotten close enough to catch the license plate. The squad car was running out of shoulder to run on. Now was the time to decide if the pursuit was worth it. Dispatch had informed them that the robbers shot the store owner and two customers, killing one of them. They had to catch them.

Pete wasn't worried about his own driving ability, but he was concerned about the skills of the man driving the Impala. Red lights and sirens did wonders to traffic. He wasn't risking commuters by his driving, but the Impala was. The speedometer read ninety-five when they got close enough to read the license plate. Pete had let up a little on the gas while they waited for the dispatch's response to Jim's request for wants and warrants on the plate. Was getting the plate enough?

Dispatch reported the Impala as a stolen car. She also relayed information from the Highway Patrol: they had officers stationed at the next mile marker. The idea was to use four cars, including Adam-12 to box the Impala in to force it to stop. Pete pressed the gas pedal to the floor. Both officers agreed that they wanted to be the car in front of the Impala. They knew these men were killers and their consciences wouldn't let them put other officers in the most dangerous spot.

The CHP had sealed off the left lane to give them some place to use to force the car into stoppimg. By using the left lane, they were able to cut off avenues of escape. Pete pulled in front of the Impala and began to let up on the gas. Two CHP units were moving up to take positions on both sides of the green car. Pete and Jim heard the back window crack as a bullet went through it. Jim was trying to duck down but still be able to see the Impala. Pete pressed on the brake; lightly at first but steadily pushing harder.

"Which side is the shooting coming from?" Pete needed to know so that he could take the safest option out of a list of bad ones. The shooter was in the passenger seat so Pete steered the unit slightly to the left. It would make shooting from the right harder. Once he did that, Pete ordered Jim to duck below the front seat. Jim wanted to shoot back, but Pete nixed that idea.

"I need you safe. If I get hit, you'll have to take the wheel. GET DOWN!" Two more bullets went through the back window. Jim hated hiding, but Pete was right. He said a short prayer for Pete's safety. The gunmen didn't seem to be shooting at the CHP cars. It made sense; if they got rid of the car in front of them, they could try again to outrun the other cop cars. The CHP units were forcing the Chevy into the left lane. Once they were there, Pete braked sharply. The gunmen's car drove into the back of the squad car before veering onto the median and flipping onto its roof.

Both men inside the car were seriously injured. While Jim rode in the ambulance, Pete thanked the CHP officers for their assistance. They exchanged official information needed for all of their reports. Before leaving, Pete checked the squad car for damage. The trunk was pushed in some, but the lights still worked. The body damage didn't bother Pete, but the five bullet holes in the back window did. Pete checked closely. Three bullets barely missed hitting Jim; the other two came way too close to hitting him. Pete was known for being cool under fire, unflappable, but this one shook him.

He picked Reed up at the hospital and together they wrote the arrest and property damage reports. They booked the suspects into the system in abstentia. It had taken two hours to write and submit the reports. They were hungry and still unnerved by that last call, so they put in a request for "seven".

They were sitting in a booth at Biff's Diner when a cute, young waitress approached. Neither officer noticed her until she dropped her order pad and cursed. That wasn't the usual response to their presence. They turned to look at the waitress and Pete uttered a soft "Why God?" It was Cindy Harrison.

The young woman wasn't very pleasant when she took their order; blaming Pete for her father making her take this job. Once she was gone, Pete told Jim how he knew the girl. Jim couldn't stop laughing.

"You do know that she's going to spit in your food, don't you?" Pete put his elbows on the table, holding his head in his hands.

"Great...Just great."

Life goes on…

 **Epilogue:**

Ed Wells was suspended for twenty days, not including the traditional two days off a week. In addition he was reduced in rank to Policer Officer II (the rank given to an officer upon completion of their probationary year), removed as a Training Officer and placed on probation for one year.

 **A/N. That's it folks. Thank you for reading along as I indulged myself in Trying to keep alive a great show's memory. As always, I welcome all reviews. They make me a better writer.**

 **~J~**


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